Back to Black
by Speaker-to-Customers
Summary: The Cursed Child's messing with time sends 17-year-old, sane, Bellatrix Black six years forward in time and gives her a glimpse into her future. Naturally she's not keen on that fate and decides to avert it by becoming an Auror instead of a Death Eater. When Harry enters the Wizarding World he'll find some things significantly different from the original time-line...
1. Fox On The Run

Author's note: Sorry about the long delay in my works in progress. Real-life issues during 2018 made it much more difficult for me to devote any time to writing and I pretty much got out of the habit. During my fallow period I got interested in a fandom to which I hadn't devoted much time in the past. I came up with the idea for this story and it kept distracting me from continuing my Skyrim and Baldur's Gate fics, although I did manage to get some work on them done. Eventually I gave in and this is the first chapter of the result…

**Back To Black**

**Chapter One: Fox on the Run**

"Down eight places to eleven, _Sabre Dance_ by Love Sculpture," the voice of Alan Freeman said over the final notes of Radio One's countdown jingle. "And now on to the Top Ten. Manfred Mann climb twelve places to number ten with _Fox on the Run._"

Bellatrix Black ate the last piece of her cheese toastie as the opening instrumental passage played. She was aware that a small group of people had just entered the café but she took little notice. Her little Sunday excursions into the Muggle world were, to the best of her knowledge, completely unknown to anyone at Hogwarts, not even Andi or Cissy and definitely not Rodolphus, and she didn't regard Muggles as any threat to her. She picked up her cup and took a sip of coffee as on the radio Mike d'Abo began to sing.

_She walked through the corn leading down to the river  
__Her hair shone like gold in the hot morning sun  
__She took all the love that a poor boy could give her  
__And left me to die like the fox on the run  
__Like the fox, like the fox, like the fox  
__On the run…_

Bella put down her cup and glanced at her watch. Ten minutes until she would have to leave to get back to Hogwarts before the end of dinner. Strictly speaking she should have been there half an hour ago, at the official deadline for returning from Hogsmeade weekends, but in practice it wasn't enforced all that strictly now that Albus Dumbledore was the Headmaster. No longer was Apollyon Pringle allowed to cane students who were out late; she didn't have any Prefect duties until Curfew, and the worst she might face if caught, now that she was seventeen and a legal adult, was a few House points taken from Slytherin and perhaps a detention if she was unlucky. She decided to listen to this song, which she liked a lot, and the next if it too was one she liked. After that, or earlier if the record at number nine turned out to be as bad as the film that she had wasted the afternoon watching, she'd leave the café and find a spot from which she could Apparate to the boundary of Hogwarts without being observed by any Muggles.

_Everybody knows the reason for the fall  
When woman tempted man down in Paradise's hall  
This woman tempted me oh yes, then took me for a ride  
But like the weary fox I need a place to hide…_

"Stupefy!"

A shouted incantation interrupted the song and Bella saw, briefly, a flash of red light. After that there was only blackness.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Did you notice the date? I missed it. All I know is that it was a Sunday."

Bella could hear a voice as she returned to consciousness. It sounded like a teenage boy, probably younger than her, speaking from somewhere outside her range of vision. She tried to move and found that she was held rigidly immobile by a _Petrificus Totalis_ or something similar.

"Crap!" Another teenage boy's voice. "Delphi handled it all and I didn't pay enough attention. Of course, we didn't know then that she was totally round the bend and lying her head off."

"And we can't ask her, now that she seems to have erased herself from existence, not that she would have told us anyway," the first voice said. "We're screwed."

"Relax, Albus, it's not that bad," said the second boy. "We can just ask Bellatrix."

Albus? It wasn't a common name. The only Albus Bella knew of was Headmaster Dumbledore and his voice was nothing like that of either of the boys. Who were they? And what in Hell were they talking about?

"And then I'd have to Obliviate her again," the first voice, Albus, said.

She'd been Obliviated? What had they done to her? Bella was close to panic but couldn't move a muscle to struggle or even to speak.

"We can't risk her remembering anything about this, not even just that Time-Turners can work this way," Albus went on, "but I'm not happy about doing another Obliviation. I'm not confident enough to be sure it won't go wrong. It seems to have worked but I'd rather not risk it again. No, I have a better idea. I can remember that it was half-past six in the evening, a song was playing on the radio, and it was number ten in the charts. I can Google it and find out what the date must have been."

"Google it? What's that?" asked the second boy.

"It's a Muggle thing," Albus replied. "They can find out pretty much anything, at least about the Muggle world, with their phones these days. It's a pity phones don't work at Hogwarts. This shouldn't take long. I heard the man on the radio call it _Fox on the Run_…"

There was a moment of silence and then the other boy spoke. "She's nothing like I'd expected," he remarked. "I'd always heard that she was a crazy murderer but she seems… nice, actually, apart from being angry about being kidnapped. And she's very pretty."

"Don't tell me you fancy her," Albus said.

"Urgh!" the second boy exclaimed. "She's my great-aunt! But it's strange, anyway. The most notorious Death Eater and we find her in a café in Muggle Edinburgh. Acting perfectly normal."

"Maybe it was being married to Rodolphus Lestrange that drove her nuts," Albus suggested, "and fifteen years in Azkaban can't have helped."

"Or something happened to her just after the time we snatched her," the other boy said. "There has to be some reason Delphi picked that time and place, and knew she'd be there. She might have been assaulted by Muggle hooligans, maybe, or something like that. It's a pity we have to send her back. She seems perfectly sane now, but once she goes nuts… how many people did she kill, before your gran killed her? Sirius Black, and Teddy's mum and dad, and she tortured the Longbottoms…"

"Actually, I think it was Dolohov who killed Teddy's dad," Albus said, and then added, in a sterner tone, "Don't even _think_ about not sending her back. That was what made Delphi disappear. And we've already had a hard lesson about messing with time."

"I know, you don't need to remind me. Every change made things go horribly worse, even when you would have thought it would make things better. Have you worked out when it was yet?"

"I'm getting there," Albus said. "If you'd just shut up for a minute… ah, here we are. _Fox on the Run_, number ten in the charts, April 27 1975."

Bellatrix tried to open her mouth to protest. She found it hard to believe that they'd moved her through time, as Time-Turners could only take you a few hours back at most and couldn't send you forward at all, but if it was true… it had been January 1969 when she'd been listening to _Pick of the Pops_, not April 1975. Her attempt to speak was futile; the immobilising spell was still in effect. Surely this all had to be some kind of prank… but, if it wasn't, she was going to be in big trouble.

"We'll need to be sharp with the timing," said the boy whose name hadn't been mentioned. "I'll cast the Rennervate and you take off the Body Bind, okay?"

"Okay," said Albus. "Get ready to cast and I'll prime the Time-Turner. We need to time it so that she wakes up in that café just after Delphi snatched her so she thinks she just nodded off for a second. Are you ready? Okay, on three. One, two… three!"

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

…_heard it all before  
I don't wanna know your name  
'Cos you don't look the same  
The way you did before_

_Fox on the run  
You scream and everybody comes a running  
Take a run and hide yourself away  
Fox is on the run  
F-foxy  
Fox on the run  
And hide away..._

Bellatrix opened her eyes wide and looked around. It was the same café… but different. The cup and plate that had been in front of her had gone, a stand on the counter that had held sweets a moment ago now displayed sandwiches and scones, and the hair of the woman behind the counter had gone noticeably greyer. The song playing on the radio, although presumably called _Fox on the Run_, didn't remotely resemble the Manfred Mann song that had been playing mere moments earlier… or was it six years earlier? If this was a prank the amount of preparation needed was far in excess of anything remotely plausible.

"Och, I didnae see you come in," the woman called. "It's counter service, hen."

Bellatrix got to her feet and staggered as she experienced a momentary rush of dizziness. She managed to stay upright, regained control of herself, and walked up to the counter. "A white coffee, please," she requested. The song on the radio was coming to an end, after a repeated chorus and fade, and the radio DJ began to speak.

"That was The Sweet with _Fox on the Run_," he said. "Now, up eleven places to number nine, _Take Good Care of Yourself_ by The Three Degrees."

It wasn't Alan Freeman. It was someone she'd never heard before. Another piece of evidence that she really had been moved through time.

"Fifteen pee, hen," the counter lady said, sliding a cup toward her.

Bellatrix frowned. That seemed an odd way of expressing the price, and she'd been expecting the coffee to be one shilling and sixpence. She fumbled a shilling and a threepenny bit out of her purse and laid it on the counter.

The woman stared at the money with her eyebrows rising high. "I said fifteen pee, hen," she said, "and the auld threepenny hasnae been legal for ages, three years or mair."

Bellatrix's jaw dropped. The Muggles had changed their money? She tipped some more coins onto the counter and let the woman take the right coins for herself. A two-shilling piece and a shilling. "But… that's three shillings," Bellatrix exclaimed.

"A ten pee and a five pee," the woman told her. "Where've you been that you dinnae ken about Decimalisation?"

"Decimalisation?" Bellatrix echoed. She thought quickly. "Swaziland," she said, naming the most obscure place she could think of off the top of her head. "I've just come back after six years." With her luck, she thought, the woman would turn out to have a brother who lived in Swaziland and would expose her story in seconds.

"Ah," said the woman. "You may as weel throw those auld pennies awa', you'd nae even be able tae change them at the bank the noo. The silver's fine, but an auld shilling is five pee." Her explanation was cut short as a couple of new customers walked into the café and she turned away to served them.

Bellatrix gathered up her coins and took her coffee back to her table. She stared at the new arrivals. They were a boy and girl, of probably around her own age, wearing clothes unlike any she had seen before. Jeans that went down only to several inches above the ankle and had strips of tartan cloth around the hems. The boy had a tartan scarf tied around his waist with the ends hanging down to mid-thigh level. The counter assistant greeted them without showing any signs of surprise at their clothing. Bellatrix averted her eyes, not wanting to be caught staring, and sugared and stirred her coffee.

This all was… impossible, but she couldn't see how it could be a prank. She really was stranded six years out of time. Her parents and sisters probably thought that she was dead. What should she do? She felt like curling up and crying but she was a Black and had to be strong. She sipped her coffee and thought. Should she go home? It was her first thought, but it would be a shock to everyone, and it was possible she might have been removed from the family wards. Back to Hogwarts? If this somehow was a prank it would be the best course and, if nothing else, it would give her time to think and she could get some advice from Sluggy. She gulped down the rest of the coffee and left the café.

It was broad daylight outside. It had been well after dark when she went into the café, as sunset was at about half-past four at that time of year, but it would be at somewhere between half-past eight and nine by late April, if her memory served her correctly, and what she saw fitted that perfectly. The last vestige of hope that she was the victim of an ingenious and complex prank dissipated. She really had been transported through time.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"A remarkable story, Miss Black," Dumbledore said. He looked at her over the top of his half-moon glasses. "Rather… hard to believe, in fact. It contradicts all that is known about Time Turners."

"Somebody in the future must have invented… will invent… ones that work differently," Bellatrix said. She'd endured a rather fraught entry into Hogwarts and now was sitting in the Headmaster's office, together with her Head of House Professor Slughorn. "I know it sounds crazy, Headmaster, but that's what happened. I couldn't believe it myself, and I kept hoping it was just a really elaborate prank, but then the radio show was different, and the sun was still up at half-past six, so I knew the date must have changed. They snatched me in 1969 and moved me to… now."

"Or perhaps you may have been slipped a Draught of Living Death," Professor Slughorn suggested, "and kept in the equivalent of an enchanted sleep for years."

Bellatrix shook her head. "I don't think so, Professor. The Transfiguration of my school robes into Muggle clothes was still in effect. I can't do permanent Transfigurations, mine only last a day or two at most, so not much time can have passed for me."

"Hmm. Perhaps some sort of stasis spell, a variation of the one used to preserve food…" Slughorn mused.

This time a shake of the head wasn't sufficient and Bellatrix was forced to resort to an eye-roll. "They'd have had to predict the singles chart six years in advance," she pointed out, "to be able to revive me when a different _Fox on the Run_ was at number ten."

"I must confess I don't understand this business about a fox," Slughorn said, "but you seem to know what you're talking about. I'm surprised at you having been slipping off into the Muggle world. I would have thought you were just about the last person to do anything like that."

"It started off as a way to avoid Rodolphus," Bellatrix explained. "It was the one place he'd never go and I could have a nice afternoon by myself without that idiot following me around, like a self-appointed bodyguard, glowering at anyone who smiled in my direction. Then I found out how… interesting the Muggle world could be." She gulped as an ominous thought struck her. "But… sir… please don't tell my parents. They wouldn't understand. If I tell them I was taken from Hogsmeade instead of Edinburgh… would you support me?"

"I don't see why not," Slughorn said. "I'm sure they'll be so delighted to see you safe that they won't worry about the details."

"Of course, we will have to tell the full story to the Aurors," Dumbledore put in.

"The… Aurors?" Bellatrix echoed. "W…will they question me?"

"Indeed, they most certainly will," Dumbledore told her. "You have been officially a missing person for all this time. There was a major investigation into your disappearance and staff, pupils, and Hogsmeade residents were all questioned. The Aurors will have to be notified straight away… although I think it might be permissible to inform your parents first. Actually, I'm surprised that you didn't go straight home when you realised that you had been away for years. Surely you must have known that they would have been dreadfully worried?"

"I was feeling too stunned to think straight," Bellatrix said, "and I just came here because that's what I was going to do before… this happened."

"Quite understandable," said Slughorn. "It must indeed have been a considerable shock."

"Perhaps I might be able to discover more of what exactly happened," Dumbledore said. "You mentioned overhearing that you had been Obliviated. It is possible that I can remove the charm and recover your memories. With your permission, of course."

Bellatrix pursed her lips. She didn't want Dumbledore poking through her mind, especially as she'd skipped over some details of her experience; the part about her being a crazy murderer in the future. Against that, she really wanted to find out what had happened before she awoke, and it would mean that Dumbledore would be able to confirm her story to the Aurors with absolute certainty. After a moment's thought she came to a decision. "You have my permission, Headmaster," she said.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Look into my eyes." He leaned forward, raised his wand, and said "Legilimens!"

Bellatrix felt a presence in her mind and had to consciously restrain herself from raising her Occlumency shields; not that they could have kept a wizard of Dumbledore's proficiency out, as she had only recently begun learning the art, but she had got to the stage where attempting to shield was an automatic reaction. Flashes of memory surfaced in her mind; snippets of the extremely silly Muggle film _Some Girls Do_, which she had seen at the cinema in the afternoon; her time at the Muggle café up to the point where she had heard the cry of 'Stupefy!'; the overheard conversation between the two boys; and her experiences at the 1975 version of the café. Nothing, however, that wasn't included in her existing memories.

Eventually Dumbledore sat back and frowned. "I'm afraid I haven't been able to do anything about your missing memories, Miss Black," he said. "In normal circumstances it should not have presented an insuperable obstacle. It was performed, as far as I can tell, with only moderate skill and without any attempt to provide false memories to cover up any gaps. A simple brute-force approach, devoid of any subtlety, and I suspect that it was the Obliviation itself that disrupted the Stupefy and allowed you to recover consciousness. The problem is that the missing section contains… nothing whatsoever."

"I don't understand," Bellatrix said.

Dumbledore sighed. "There seems to be some sort of… time paradox… involved," he said. "You overheard a mention of one of those involved having, ah, erased herself from existence. The two boys who remained may have done the same thing to themselves when they returned you to the wrong time period. Consequently, in a sense, your… sojourn… into the future… never happened. The only tangible remnant of it is in your conscious memory."

"That doesn't make sense," Bellatrix protested. "If I can remember the part that I remember, then I should be able to remember the bit that I don't remember, once you remove the Obliviation. Uh, if you see what I mean."

"That would be logical," Dumbledore said, "but once Time Turners are involved logic goes out of the window. I am merely hypothesising, however, and it is possible that the caster, despite a relative lack of skill, simply managed to perform an exceptionally comprehensive Obliviation more or less by accident. Whichever explanation is correct, of one thing I am certain. That part of your memory is gone forever and nothing I can do will bring it back. I very much doubt if any other practitioner of the mind arts would be able to achieve what I could not."

Bellatrix grimaced. She'd allowed Dumbledore to see things she'd have preferred to keep to herself but had found out nothing new. "Thank you for trying, Headmaster," she said, forcing herself to sound polite and grateful.

"There is something else, Miss Black," Dumbledore went on. "When I saw your memory of your… abductors… I heard them say some rather… disturbing things about your, ah, future life."

"You need not worry about that, Headmaster," Bellatrix told him. "They disturbed me, too, and I've decided there is no way I want to go through that. I'm going to do the exact opposite of what they say I did… or will do. Assuming I can come back to Hogwarts, and complete my NEWTs, I'm going to apply for a position as an Auror."

"You need a minimum of five NEWTs at 'Exceed Expectations' or better to be accepted as an Auror," Slughorn said. "You were an exemplary student, on course for 'Outstanding' in all your classes, and I'm confident that you will be able to catch up on the three months that you have missed. The problem is that you were only taking four NEWT courses and, if you add a fifth, you'll be starting from scratch almost two whole terms behind the rest of the class."

"That won't be a problem, sir," Bellatrix replied. "Sign me up for Muggle Studies."

Slughorn gave a short laugh. "Very well, Miss Black. I'm sure that you'll do well."

"And now," Dumbledore said, "I think it's time that I had a word with the Aurors. No doubt they will want to interview you but I can assure them that your story, despite its seeming impossibility, is the absolute truth. I see no reason why it will be necessary to include that part of your abductors' conversation that covered future events that, in this… timeline, are unlikely to occur."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Bellatrix said, her gratitude now entirely genuine.

"After that," Dumbledore went on, "we can break the news to your parents and then send you home."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

It had been a long time since Bellatrix had had a hug from her mother. She felt more embarrassed than comforted. The brief, awkward, hug from her father was even more embarrassing.

"We thought you were dead!" Druella Black choked out, seemingly on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Or that you'd run away to avoid marrying Rodolphus Lestrange," Cygnus Black said.

"Oh, I wouldn't have gone quite that far, Father," Bellatrix said.

"Andromeda did," Druella said. "She refused point-blank when Rodolphus demanded that she take your place. When we told her that it was her duty she ran off and married a Mudblood."

"Ted Tonks, I take it?" Bellatrix said.

"You knew?" Druella exclaimed. "And you didn't say anything?"

"Sorry, mother," Bellatrix said, "but it was just a school romance. I didn't expect it to last. Ted isn't too bad for a Mudblood, though. Solid, respectful of our traditions, and always polite to me and Cissy."

"Humph!" her mother snorted. "A Mudblood is a Mudblood. She brought shame on the family by marrying one. Arcturus wouldn't let us have her thrown out of the family, because with your disappearance, and Sirius rebelling against the family traditions, we were running a little short of true Blacks. Now you're back we'll be able to get her properly disowned and burned from the tapestry."

"That wouldn't be fair!" Bellatrix protested. "She only did it because you pushed her to marry Rodolphus. Father admitted that you both thought I might have run away to avoid that same fate. Don't punish her. Please?"

"Now, now, don't spoil this joyous reunion by arguing," Cygnus said. "We'll leave it up to Arcturus."

"What did Cousin Sirius do that disgraced the family?" Bellatrix asked.

"He was sorted into Gryffindor," her mother replied, with a sniff, "and was quite unrepentant about it. Walburga was furious. And he's befriended the blood traitor James Potter. Regulus says Potter is quite the bully to Slytherins and Sirius is following his example."

"How old is Sirius now?" Bellatrix asked. He'd been nine when she'd last seen him, at Christmas 1968, and she'd been quite fond of the bright and amusing little boy. Hearing that she had killed him in the future, in the original timeline, had been an unpleasant shock. She started to work out his age. If this was April 1975, he'd be…

"He's fifteen," Cygnus said. "In Fourth Year."

"I'll sort him out, then," Bellatrix said, "assuming they let me continue as a Prefect when I go back to Hogwarts."

"You don't need to go back," Cygnus said. "You're twenty-three now and it's not as if you need NEWTs to get a good job, or even need to work at all."

"I might technically be twenty-three," Bellatrix said, "but in my head I'm seventeen. And I will need NEWTs for the job that I want. I've decided to become an Auror."

"An Auror? Isn't that rather a… low-class occupation for a Black?" her father said. "You've never expressed any interest in that line of work before… unless you use it as a stepping-stone to a high position in the DMLE, and from there to something more prestigious… hmm, yes. Oh, but don't you need five NEWTs for that? Weren't you only taking four?"

"Slughorn thinks I can take a fifth and catch up before long," Bellatrix said, deciding not to mention that the NEWT in question would be Muggle Studies. "I wasn't thinking about a career when I only signed up for four but I'll put that right."

"But why an Auror?" Druella said. "You might find yourself having to arrest some of… our sort of people. There is a movement seeking to put the Mudbloods and blood-traitors in their place and they may be, technically, breaking the law in the service of a higher cause."

"Hmm. An Auror loyal to the Pureblood cause might be very useful," said Cygnus. "Being a little… lax, selectively, and perhaps warning the right people…"

Bellatrix shook her head. "If I become an Auror I'll give it my all," she declared. Her top priority was stopping the events leading to her going to Azkaban for fifteen years from coming to pass, and becoming effectively a crooked Auror wouldn't help her avoid that fate. "The best way to prove Pureblood superiority is to be _better_ than the lesser breeds. I'll be the best Auror I can, enforcing the law without fear or favour, as they say."

"I suppose that's a laudable aim," Cygnus conceded. "I'm sure you'll rise to Head of the DMLE in no time. But what brought this on so suddenly? You never expressed any interest whatsoever in being an Auror before now."

"I was kidnapped," Bellatrix said. "I think it was basically a stupid prank that went horribly wrong, rather than being done with malicious intent, but it still got me thinking along the lines of catching criminals." There was no way that she was going to reveal to her parents the true reason behind her decision. "You've told me about Andi, and Sirius," she went on, wanting to change the subject. "What about Cissy? She'll have long left school by now. I take it she doesn't still live at home. Has she married Lucius Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes," her mother said, smiling. "They married not long after Cissy left school. A beautiful, traditional, Pureblood wedding. It's such a shame you couldn't have been there."

"It certainly is," Bellatrix said. "Just one more reason to resent having been kidnapped." Although, she had to admit to herself, her having missed the wedding would be worth it if it also meant that she missed the fifteen years in Azkaban and early death.

"They haven't started a family yet," Druella continued, "but it hasn't been all that long since they were wed. There's plenty of time."

"I'm glad," Bellatrix said. "It's bad enough that my two younger sisters are both older than me now without me suddenly finding out that I'm an aunt."

"You _are_ an aunt," Druella informed her. "Andromeda had a baby girl eighteen months ago. They've called her Nymphadora. I must admit that, despite her polluted blood, she's a very cute baby and shows signs of being a Metamorphmagus."

"Oh, wow!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "I must see her before I go back to school. But not tonight. It's been a very long day… six years long."


	2. It's My Party and I'll cry if I want to

**Chapter Two: It's My Party (and I'll cry if I want to)**

Bellatrix gulped down piping hot coffee as she sat at her desk. "Merlin, I'm knackered," she grumbled, as she put down the cup and returned to her paperwork. "Is everyone in this country a sodding idiot? Or did someone repeal the Statute of Secrecy while I wasn't looking?"

"Oh, it's not too bad," said Auror John Dawlish, Bellatrix's immediate superior. "I'd much rather deal with wizards celebrating slightly too enthusiastically than have to face Death Eaters, and that's something we won't have to do any more."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Bellatrix said. "Just because You-Know-Who has disappeared, presumed dead, doesn't mean his supporters are all gone. Still, I suppose they'll at least be lying low for a while."

"Yes, no doubt," said Dawlish. "It will be just the overly exuberant wizards and witches who give us any trouble, and they'll calm down before long. At least the Muggles seem to have some sort of celebration of their own going on, letting off those fire-walk things, so our lot's magical explosions have more or less blended in."

"It's Guy Fawkes' Day tomorrow," Bellatrix said, "also known as Bonfire Night. People often start letting off _fireworks_," she stressed the correct pronunciation, "before the correct time. It commemorates the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, when Robert Catesby and Guido Fawkes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament with hundreds of barrels of gunpowder."

"Oh, yes, you got an Outstanding in your Muggle Studies NEWT, didn't you?" Dawlish said, his upper lip curling in a slight sneer. "You know all that stuff."

"And the Mordicus Egg Prize for Outstanding Original Research in a Muggle-related Field," Bellatrix said, just to irritate Dawlish. He was proud of his unblemished five Outstandings in his NEWTs and seemed to resent Bellatrix having equalled his feat. That Bellatrix had graduated from the three-year Auror Training Program with the highest total score ever recorded only made matters worse. Bellatrix had a suspicion that Amelia Bones, Head of the Auror Office, had assigned her to pair with Dawlish to teach one of them a lesson in humility; she wasn't sure which of them had been the intended target of the lesson, but she was sure that it hadn't worked on either of them.

"I still think we should have been allowed to come down harder on some of those idiots," Bellatrix went on. "Bagnold effectively chopped us off at the ankles with that stupid 'Inalienable right to party' declaration."

"She's the Minister," Dawlish said, with a shrug. "What she says goes."

Bellatrix snorted. Before she could say anything more the door of their small office opened and two people entered. Amelia Bones and the Director of the DMLE Bartemius Crouch Senior. She shot to her feet and stood at attention.

Bones was frowning slightly but seemed concerned rather than angry. Crouch, however, glowered fiercely at Bellatrix. She guessed that one of the carelessly celebrating wizards she had cautioned harshly, and would have arrested had it been up to her, had been someone with influence and had complained to Crouch about her attitude.

"Dawlish, you can leave," Amelia said. "Mister Crouch has business only with Miss Black." Dawlish departed hastily and Amelia shut the door behind him.

"Black," Crouch growled, as soon as Dawlish had left the room. "Your cousin has just been arrested."

Bellatrix frowned. "Regulus? Aunt Walburga told me he was dead. And Evan Rosier is definitely dead. Alastor Moody killed him a couple of months back."

"Your other cousin. Sirius Black."

Bellatrix sighed. "What's that idiot done now?" she asked and then, realising that her tone was too flippant when she was addressing her boss's boss, hastily added "Sir."

"Betrayed the Potters to You-Know-Who," Crouch told her, glaring, "and murdered Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles."

"What?" Bellatrix's mouth dropped open and she swayed on her feet. She sat down abruptly and stared at Crouch. "I don't believe you!"

"He was caught red-handed," Crouch said, "in the middle of carnage, and Cornelius Fudge says he was openly laughing."

"Cornelius Fudge?" Bellatrix's eyebrows soared upward. "What was he doing making arrests?"

"The Magical Accidents and Catastrophes people were called to the scene of the explosion," Crouch said, "and they got there before Black was able to flee."

Bellatrix shook her head. "But why are you saying he betrayed the Potters? I couldn't stand that arrogant pillock James Potter but Sirius adored him. He'd have cut off his own balls with a rusty knife rather than betray Potter." And, of course, she had heard the boy who had said he was her great-nephew talking about her future self being a Death Eater and killing Sirius Black, which strongly implied that Sirius had been an opponent of the Death Eaters, but if she mentioned that she'd only bring Crouch's suspicions down on herself.

Crouch's glare became even more hostile. "Watch your tongue, Black, you're insulting someone who gave his life for us. Sirius Black was the Secret Keeper for the Potters. No-one else could have betrayed them."

"Pettigrew!" said Bellatrix. "He always was a snivelling little git. I bet he was the real Secret Keeper and it was him who sold them out. Sirius went after him for revenge, blew him up, and, being an idiot, didn't think about collateral damage to the Muggles."

"And now you're casting vile aspersions on a hero who will undoubtedly be awarded an Order of Merlin," Crouch growled. "That will be quite enough. I was considering suspending you from duty anyway, and you've just made my decision easy. You're suspended until further notice."

Amelia Bones hadn't said anything as yet, she had just stood off to the side with her frown growing steadily deeper, but now she spoke out. "That's extremely harsh, Barty. Bellatrix has always conducted herself in exemplary fashion and has an excellent arrest record. Suspending her just for expressing herself in a rather blunt fashion seems quite disproportionate. Her point about Black does make sense. It would explain why his actions seem to go against everything we thought we knew about him, although really it doesn't make a lot of difference. Pettigrew is dead, and Sirius Black will still go to Azkaban even if he had a good reason to kill him and didn't mean to kill the Muggles."

"It would be Manslaughter rather than Murder, though," Bellatrix pointed out, "and ten years in Azkaban instead of Life. I think that's enough of a difference."

"Indeed so," said Amelia. "I'll look into it."

"Sirius Black is a murderer, and that's all there is to it," Crouch declared. "Now, about _this_ insolent Black. You are suspended with immediate effect. I'll be taking a good look at your record, and at that missing six years right at the time when You-Know-Who was starting to make himself known. If one Black managed to hide the fact that he was a treacherous Death Eater all along, what's to say another one didn't do exactly the same thing?"

Amelia's lips tightened. "This is beginning to sound very like a witch hunt, Barty," she said. "I won't stand for you victimising one of my best young Aurors."

"The Minister has given me the authority to use any means that I think fit to suppress these insurrectionists," Crouch replied. "I have good reason to be suspicious of the Black family and I'll investigate Miss Black thoroughly until she's cleared… or not."

Bellatrix was fighting to control her temper. She had no idea why he was being so hostile, as she was too junior to have had much interaction with the Department Head, but definitely he seemed to be out to get her. Was it just because she was Sirius' cousin, or had some other member of the Black family incurred his ire and he was taking it out on her? It was totally unfair, whatever his reason, and she felt very like whipping out her wand and cursing Crouch right in the face, but managed to hold herself back. It would only get her thrown into Azkaban and wreck everything she'd been trying to achieve for the past six years.

"Your wand," Crouch snapped. "Hand it over."

"What?" Bellatrix and Amelia exclaimed simultaneously.

"I'm taking your wand," Crouch said. "I'll have the Unspeakables examine it to find out what spells you've been casting lately."

"_Priori Incantato_ only reveals the most recent spell, Mister Crouch," Amelia pointed out, "and, considering that you've authorised the use of the Unforgivables, I fail to see any point in checking her wand."

"I haven't cast any anyway," Bellatrix said. She noticed that Amelia now called Crouch 'Mister', when she'd been calling him 'Barty' when they first came in; she seemed to be growing more and more irritated with Crouch. Bellatrix wondered, briefly, if they were doing a 'Good cop, bad cop' act on her, but decided that Amelia was quite genuinely on her side. Crouch most definitely was not on her side and was, for some unknown reason, very much out to get her.

"I'm sure the Unspeakables will be able to get at more of the wand's history than just the most recent spell," Crouch said, "and I'll be checking their results against your mission reports. If there are any discrepancies… you'd better have a very good explanation."

"Fine," Bellatrix said, reluctantly, and took out her unusual, curved-handled, twelve and three-quarter inch wand. "I'd better get it back in good condition," she said, coldly, and handed it to Crouch.

"You'll get it back if, and only if, you come out of this investigation cleared," Crouch said.

"Mister Crouch!" Amelia snapped, cold fury in her voice. "This is, most definitely, an unwarranted witch-hunt. It almost seems like a personal vendetta. Are you seriously going to effectively confiscate the wand of an Auror, who has never done anything to warrant any kind of disciplinary action, as if she was a naughty schoolgirl? And then send her away, defenceless against any criminal who might look for revenge on her for a previous arrest?"

"I'm not defenceless," Bellatrix said. "I spend half my off-duty time in the Muggle world anyway. I don't need magic to look after myself." And she had two knives tucked away inside her uniform, although she wasn't going to mention those in case Crouch thought of some excuse to confiscate them too. "I might go and stay with Andi and Ted. I can carry on reading 'The Chronicles of Narnia' to Nymphadora. Or… actually, I think I'll pay a visit to the Longbottoms. I can remember where they live now and so they must have taken down the _Fidelius_. They might be able to tell me why they, and the Potters, were hiding under a _Fidelius_ and so why _some people_," she looked at Crouch, "think Sirius might have betrayed the Potters to Voldemort."

"They haven't re-connected to the Floo network yet," Amelia said. "Can you Apparate wandlessly?"

"I'll get there by Muggle means," Bellatrix said. She had a motorbike, a Moto Guzzi V50 Monza, and loved it just as much as Sirius loved his Triumph Bonneville; although, unlike him, she hadn't enchanted it to be able to fly. "I'll have something to eat first, and then head for their house."

"While you're there, tell Frank I'm expecting him to return to work soon," Amelia said. "We could certainly use him. Especially," she added, glowering at Crouch, "when one of my Aurors has been suspended from duty for no rational reason."

"I'm acting on information received," said Crouch. "In conjunction with the revelation that her cousin is a traitor it left me with no option but to take action. I'm tempted to make it an arrest rather than a mere suspension."

Bellatrix felt a touch of alarm mixed with her anger. She hadn't done anything wrong but Crouch seemed so implacably hostile, for some incomprehensible reason, that he might twist something innocuous into apparent evidence of guilt.

"You most certainly will not!" Amelia snapped. "If you had any actual evidence of wrongdoing you would have said so. No, you're choosing to believe malicious rumours, probably originating from someone with a personal grudge against Miss Black, simply because of who her relatives are. I won't tolerate it. She will not be arrested. The suspension can stand, for the time being, but it will be on full pay and there will be no black mark on her record. Are we clear?"

Crouch snorted. "I won't forget this, Bones," he said. He spun on his heel, opened the door, and marched out of the room.

Amelia sighed. "I have no idea what's got into him," she said. "You haven't broken his son's heart, or anything like that, have you?"

"Barty Junior was in Second Year when I was in my final year at Hogwarts, if I remember correctly," Bellatrix said. "I hardly even noticed him, in fact I can't even remember what House he was in, except that it wasn't Slytherin. I've spoken to him occasionally, now that he's working in the Ministry, but we don't mix socially. As for other possibilities… I refused to marry Rodolphus Lestrange, and I wouldn't be surprised if he still bears me a grudge, but he's too much of an idiot to try to get back at me this way. He'd just try to kill me."

"He's listed as a suspected Death Eater," Amelia said. "I doubt if he'd risk talking to Crouch, but it's still possible he's the source of Crouch's 'information received' if he's more subtle than you think."

"I doubt it," Bellatrix said, "but I suppose it's possible." It occurred to her that the source might actually be Dumbledore. He'd been as good as his word about keeping to himself what he'd seen in her mind about her alternate future, but it was possible that he'd accidentally let something slip. Whoever it had been, there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it, except to keep her nose clean and trust that her innocence would see her through. That, and Amelia Bones' support. "Thank you for backing me, Madam Bones," she said. "It means a lot."

"Just keep doing your job as well as you have been doing, once Crouch lets you get back to it, and that's all the thanks I need," said Amelia. "Now, you'd better go, before he thinks up some other specious reason to persecute you. Take good care of yourself."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Bellatrix dismounted from her bike outside the house where the Longbottoms were living. She reached for her absent wand, to transfigure her Muggle clothes into robes, before grimacing and suppressing the reflex. Wandless transfigurations were beyond her and she would just have to call on the Longbottoms in her motorbike gear. She removed her helmet, tucked it under an arm, and ran her fingers through her hair before walking up to the door and using the knocker. It was an antique brass knocker, in the shape of a lion's head, and she was fairly sure that the lion's eyes were watching her.

It took a while before there was an answer. She occupied herself by singing _Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic_, by The Police, to herself as she waited. Just as she was beginning to think that Frank and Alice had gone out, which wouldn't have been surprising if they'd been virtually confined to the house for ages, the door opened. Frank Longbottom stood there, holding his wand in his hand, although it wasn't pointed at her. Not directly, anyway, but close enough that it could have been brought into action very quickly.

"Welcome, Bellatrix," he greeted her. "To what do we owe the pleasure? And what on Earth are you wearing?"

"Hello, Frank," Bellatrix said. "It's Muggle motorcycle clothing. I came on my bike."

"That red machine? Very noisy, isn't it? And it looks most uncomfortable. Why didn't you just Apparate?"

"The bike is a lot of fun and it's not at all uncomfortable," Bellatrix said. "Especially as I tweaked it with a minor Cushioning Charm, although not enough to be obvious to the morons in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department. As for why I didn't Apparate… I don't have my wand at the moment, and the reason is a long story."

Frank's eyebrows climbed. "You'd better come in, then," he said, and stepped back. His wand remained in his hand.

Bellatrix looked at his wand and grinned. "Constant Vigilance!" she exclaimed, mimicking the veteran Auror who had been one of their principal instructors during their Auror training. Frank laughed, lowered his wand slightly, and led Bellatrix into the house.

A few minutes later Bellatrix was sitting in an armchair, sipping a cup of tea, and smiling as she watched Alice bounce her toddler son Neville on her knee. Bellatrix's Belstaff jacket was hanging on a coat-stand by the door, with her helmet beside it, and she wore a comfortable sweater, jeans, and boots. Her attire contrasted sharply with Frank and Alice's traditional robes.

"So," Frank said, "what are you after? You wouldn't have come over, uninvited, if you weren't after something."

"I might have just wanted to see how Neville is getting on," Bellatrix said. "Is he walking yet?"

"Staggering around," Alice said. "He gets around quite well but still falls over a lot. He might have done his first accidental magic, wrapping himself up in his blankets, but I'm not certain because one of us might have done it and forgotten. It's early days, of course, and even if that wasn't his magic, I'm sure he'll do something soon."

"He's bound to, with you two as parents," Bellatrix agreed. She turned to Frank. "I want to ask you about the _Fidelius_. How does the Secret Keeper part work? Can the Secret be revealed by casting _Imperius_ on the Keeper?"

Frank shook his head. "It has to be voluntary, and intentional," he said.

"Damn," said Bellatrix. "What about Polyjuice? Could an enemy trick the Secret Keeper by Polyjuicing themselves into someone to whom they would willingly give the Secret?"

Frank's eyebrows climbed. "I hadn't thought of that," he said. "It does seem like a loophole. Dumbledore assured us it was fool-proof but perhaps he overlooked that way around it. Why do you ask?"

"Cousin Sirius has been arrested for killing Peter Pettigrew, and twelve Muggles, and for allegedly betraying the Potters by revealing their Secret to You-Know-Who," Bellatrix explained. "I can't believe he'd deliberately betray the Potters. He always was stupidly devoted to James. So, either he was tricked into it, or else he wasn't really the Secret Keeper, Pettigrew was, and Sirius killed him as revenge and unfortunately, because he could be a bit of an idiot at times, caught the Muggles in the blast."

"That makes a lot of sense," Frank agreed. "I can't tell you who was the Potters' Secret Keeper. We didn't visit them after we both went into hiding. Dumbledore cast our _Fidelius_, and I expect he'll have cast theirs, so he'll know."

"Perhaps not," Alice said. "Lily might have cast it herself. She was something of a prodigy at Charms."

Bellatrix pursed her lips. "I'll just have to hope it was Dumbledore," she said. "If I can prove Sirius wasn't the Secret Keeper, and he was just stupidly careless getting revenge on the real traitor, it should mean him getting a reduced sentence. Assuming Barty Crouch doesn't just dismiss everything that I say, of course."

"Oh? Why would he do that?" Frank asked.

"He seems to have some weird grudge against me," Bellatrix explained. "He's had me suspended, and confiscated my wand, and, if it wasn't for Amelia Bones sticking up for me, he'd have had me arrested. Sirius being accused has made Crouch suspect the whole Black family, and me in particular, of being undercover Death Eaters."

Frank snorted. "That's ridiculous," he said. "I mean, look at you. Any of the Blood Supremacist crowd would rather go naked than dress like you."

Bellatrix grinned. "Only briefly," she said. "Riding a motorbike, naked, in November? You'd freeze to death. Even Lady Godiva wouldn't risk it."

"Lady who?" Frank queried.

"Godiva, Countess of Mercia, in the Eleventh Century," Bellatrix explained. "Muggle legend has it that she rode naked through Coventry as part of a bet to persuade her husband to reduce taxation. The townspeople, out of respect, all averted their eyes except for one, named Tom, who peeped and was struck blind. It's where the expression 'Peeping Tom' comes from."

"That pretty much proves you not to be a Death Eater sympathiser in itself," Frank commented. "I've never met another Pureblood who knows as much about Muggles as you do. In fact I'm pretty sure you could out-Muggle most of the Muggleborns."

"Barty Crouch would probably say I was following the principle 'Know your enemy'," Bellatrix said, pessimistically, "and I must admit that's the argument I've used to disarm my parents and Aunt Walburga when they've complained about me mixing with Muggles. Although they are softening their stance, these days. Even Aunt Walburga has lost some of her enthusiasm for the Death Eaters since Regulus died."

"What happened to him?" Frank asked. "I've heard a couple of conflicting stories."

"The only witness was a house elf, who seems to have been driven half-crazy by whatever happened and can't give a coherent account," Bellatrix began, "but it seems that Regulus was…" She was interrupted by the doorknocker banging.

Frank produced a mirror, tapped it with his wand, and stared into it. "Barty Crouch?" he said. "I wonder what he's doing here." He noticed Bellatrix grimacing. "Junior," he added, "so you can relax."

"As long as it wasn't him who bad-mouthed me to his father," Bellatrix said, "although I doubt that, as I hardly know him."

Frank went to the door, holding his wand down by his side, and opened it. "Welcome, Barty," he said. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Sorry to bother you, Frank," Barty Junior began, "but is Bellatrix Black here? I need to see her urgently."

"She is, actually," Frank said. "I'll ask her if she's willing to see you." He turned his head to speak to Bellatrix… and Barty whipped out his wand.

"_Crucio!_" Barty yelled. Frank had no chance to react and convulsed as the spell hit him. He collapsed in the doorway, writhing, and Barty leaped over him. Two other men appeared from the area to the sides of the door, where they had been hidden from the charmed doorknocker, and rushed for the house. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange.

Alice grabbed for her wand but was hampered by having Neville in her arms. Bellatrix cursed her own failure to exercise Constant Vigilance; she didn't have her wand, her enchanted silver dagger was in the pocket of her jacket on the coat-stand, and the knife in her jeans pocket was a lock-knife and not ready for instant action. She leapt to her feet, and snapped the blade open with desperate haste, but by the time it locked into place all three of the attackers were inside the house and firing off curses.

Bellatrix threw herself into a rolling dive to evade a stunner, came up closer to Barty than a Pureblood unfamiliar with Muggle martial arts could have expected, and raked the point of her knife across the back of his wand hand. She followed up with a slash aimed at his eyes, as his wand fell to the floor, but he recoiled and she caught only the tip of his nose.

Bellatrix was bending to grab for the fallen wand when she saw Alice fall to a _Petrificus Totalus_ cast by Rabastan Lestrange. Rodolphus aimed his wand at Bellatrix and she dived out of the way, abandoning her attempt to get the wand, and narrowly missed crashing into the armchair in which she had been sitting when the attack began. She snatched up her discarded teacup and hurled it at Barty, hoping to distract him and delay his recovering his wand, and followed it up with the teapot.

Neville, now alone on the settee, was crying and Rodolphus turned his wand to point at the child. "I'll give you something to cry about!" he yelled. "_Cru…_" he began.

Bellatrix's wandless magic wasn't up to moving anything big enough to block the curse so she resorted to physical means. She let go of her knife, snatched up the coffee table, and threw it into the path of the _Cruciatus_. She successfully intercepted the spell but, as she bent to retrieve her knife, Barty managed to pick up his wand and send a curse at her.

A blue streak of light hit Bellatrix in the lower abdomen. Agony seared through her and she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She flopped around on the floor, as helpless as a stranded fish, and the crotch of her jeans began to grow damp with blood.

"Why did you use that curse?" Rodolphus snapped at Barty Junior. "Now we can't leave her dead, from a spell cast with Longbottom's wand, to take the blame. He'd never cast that one."

"The bitch cut me!" Barty snapped back. Blood was dripping from his hand and his nose. "I want her to die in agony. We can always vanish her body, after we cut the Longbottoms' throats with her knife, and it'll be assumed she got away."

"I suppose that would work," Rodolphus said. He went to where Bellatrix lay, stood over her, and sneered. "You should have married me when you had the chance," he said. "Thought you were too good for me, did you? The high and mighty Noble and Ancient House of Black… not so high and mighty now, are you?" He kicked her in the side but she was already in so much pain that she hardly felt it. She stretched out her arm, trying to reach her knife, but couldn't find it.

Barty Junior laughed. "And all it took was a few words to my father," he said. "I acted so concerned about the distressing rumours I'd heard… or made up. It worked even better than I'd hoped. Not only did he take your wand away but you came here. Exactly where we were thinking of going anyway. Now we can kill two birds with one spell."

"Let's get on with it," Rabastan said. He had dragged Frank, who was still incapacitated by the _Cruciatus_, away from the doorway and shut the door. "What happened to the Dark Lord?" he growled at the fallen man. "Why did you, and the Potters, go into hiding at the same time? Tell me what you know!"

"Fuck… you!" Frank gasped out. Rabastan _Crucioed_ him again and he screamed.

"Dada!" Neville yelled, and began crying again.

"Shut up, you little brat!" Rodolphus snarled. "Perhaps if I _Crucio_ the baby it might make Longbottom more willing to talk. And if that doesn't work, we can move on to Alice."

"Mama!" Neville wailed. Rodolphus began to raise his wand. Bellatrix felt a tingle of active magic but couldn't identify the source. She ignored it and made a supreme effort to override her pain and focus her wandless magic.

"_Accio…_ knife," Bellatrix croaked. Her knife skittered across the floor into her hand. At once she lunged upward, aiming at the groin, and Rodolphus shrieked as the blade sank in deep. Bellatrix ripped the knife downward and across, tearing his leg open, hoping to hit the femoral artery. The gush of blood that poured out, soaking her sweater sleeve in a heartbeat, told her that she had succeeded.

"Fuck!" Rodolphus bellowed. "I'm bleeding like a stuck pig!" He dropped his wand and clutched at the wound. "Rabastan!" he screamed. "Help me!"

Bellatrix heard Barty Junior say "_Avada_" and then a female voice drowned him out with a shout of "_Reducto!_" Bellatrix heard a scream and caught a brief glimpse of a severed lower leg sliding across the floor. Then Rodolphus collapsed on top of her, his wound still spurting blood, and the impact made the pain in her abdomen increase to unbearable levels. Everything went black as she passed out.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

When Bellatrix regained consciousness the first thing that she felt was pain. It wasn't the searing agony of the curse but a dull nagging pain; no worse than period pains and in the same area. She just had time to realise that she was in a bed when she felt a hand supporting her head and a cup being held to her lips. She drank, recognising the bitter taste of a potion, and almost at once slipped back into what was now sleep rather than unconsciousness.

The next time she awoke the pain had almost gone. She tried to sit up and gentle hands assisted her. Her blurred vision cleared and she saw that a woman in lime-green robes, that bore the symbol of a wand crossed by a bone, was beside her. This had to be St. Mungo's Hospital.

"Are Frank and Alice all right? And baby Neville?" Bellatrix asked, as soon as her immediate needs had been dealt with.

"Mister Longbottom is recovering from severe _Cruciatus_ exposure," the Healer replied. "His wife and child are fine and are with him, as is his mother. Your parents are waiting outside the ward. Madam Bones is here too and she would like to see you as soon as possible. I need to advise you about your own condition first."

"That sounds… ominous," Bellatrix said.

"You're out of danger," the Healer said, "and you'll be fit enough to leave in a day or two. However, I do have some bad news."

Bellatrix felt a chill run down her spine. "Go ahead," she said.

"The curse you were hit with… destroyed your uterus," the Healer said. "We couldn't save it and had to remove it totally. You will never be able to have children."


	3. Insider (Hard Promises)

**Chapter Three: Insider (Hard Promises)**

"Rodolphus Lestrange died," Amelia Bones told Bellatrix. "Massive blood loss. You carved him up, to put it crudely, very efficiently."

"Good," said Bellatrix. "The bastard was going to _Crucio_ the little boy."

"So Alice informed me," Amelia said. "She was watching, helplessly, and then suddenly she was able to move. Neville seems to have freed her with accidental magic."

"I heard him calling for her," Bellatrix said, "and I could sense magic working but I didn't know what it was. That must have been it."

"No doubt," Amelia agreed. "Alice saw Barty Junior about to _AK_ you and beat him to it with a _Reducto_. She blew his left leg off at the knee."

"I saw the leg flying just before I passed out," Bellatrix said. "I must thank her. Although," she added with a touch of bitterness, "it's a pity she didn't hit him a little higher up. About where he hit me."

"I think the life of a one-legged man in Azkaban will be nasty, brutish, and short enough for you to be quite adequately avenged," Amelia said. "I expect you're almost as angry at Crouch Senior, who is responsible for you being in that position. His first reaction, when he heard what had happened, was to try to blame you and claim that his son was innocent. The Longbottoms soon disabused him of that notion, quite forcefully. Frank wasn't up to doing anything more than shouting at him but Alice slapped his face and Augusta walloped him with her umbrella. I didn't actually hit him but I threatened to geld him with your knife. He's been dismissed as Head of the DMLE and shunted over to International Magical Cooperation. A considerable step down, although not as far down as I would have hoped. I was thinking more on the lines of Toilet Attendant."

Bellatrix laughed. "Very appropriate. Are you going to be taking over as Head of the DMLE?"

"Probably," said Amelia. "I'm in the post provisionally, as of now, but I'm confident it'll be made permanent. There aren't really any other viable contenders. Cornelius Fudge was going to try for it, on the strength of his catching your cousin, but turning up after an explosion and arresting someone who was still half stunned doesn't match up to fighting off three Death Eaters while armed only with a knife. If you had ten years' more seniority you might have had a shot at the job yourself, after this exploit, or at least of taking over from me as Head of the Auror Department."

Bellatrix shook her head. "I didn't fight them off," she said. "If Alice hadn't got free, they'd have killed me. I really, really, need to work on my wandless magic."

"You still managed to kill the worst of them even after you'd already been… badly wounded," Amelia said. "I'll be putting you forward for an Order of Merlin."

Bellatrix's eyes widened. "Order of Merlin?" she echoed. "But… but… I don't deserve it," she said. "I was attacked and fought back. That's all. Anybody would have done the same."

"If that was true, we'd have defeated the Death Eaters in no time," Amelia said. "Far too many civilians, and even some Aurors, panicked and froze, or tried to run away, instead of fighting back when Death Eaters attacked. That's how a relatively few terrorists were able to paralyze, and almost destroy, our whole society. I hate to say it but the majority of our people might as well be sheep, most of the time. They need heroes to inspire them. They have the Boy Who Lived now but what he did, or more likely what James or Lily Potter did by putting some sort of protective charm on him, isn't something the average wizard can emulate. But what you did… well, I doubt if most people would find that kind of courage, but they can at least pretend to themselves that they could try. You can be a more… relatable symbol."

"Politics," Bellatrix snorted. "I still say I don't deserve an award."

"They're giving Peter Pettigrew a posthumous Order of Merlin, and you deserve it far more than he does," Amelia told her. "I think your idea that he was the real traitor is quite probably correct, but I haven't been able to prove it. Several people, including Dumbledore, were told that Sirius was the Secret Keeper and I can't find any hard evidence to show that he wasn't."

"But if they questioned Sirius under Veritaserum…" Bellatrix began. Her voice trailed off as Amelia shook her head.

"He's been trained in Occlumency and the Council of Magical Law decided he'd be able to resist Veritaserum," Amelia said. "They regarded his confession at the scene of Pettigrew's killing as sufficient to prove him guilty of everything, and he was sent straight to Azkaban."

"Damn," Bellatrix said. "Still, maybe something will turn up. I might find evidence myself… if I stay in the Auror Corps."

"If you stay? Why would you leave? Don't let Crouch's mistakes put you off the career you're doing so well in," Amelia said, sounding somewhat horrified at the prospect of Bellatrix leaving. "He's gone, for good, and I promise I'll never treat you like that."

"It's not that, Madam Bones," Bellatrix said.

"I think you've earned the right to call me Amelia," Amelia put in.

Bellatrix smiled. "Amelia, then. No, it's nothing to do with the way Crouch treated me. It's just… the Healers tell me my injury means I'll never be able to have children. And, right at the same time, little Harry Potter has been orphaned. We're related, maybe not all that closely, but with James' parents being dead I'm as close as anyone other than his mother's Muggle family. I thought, maybe, I could apply to adopt him. I'd have to give up working as an Auror, and I do enjoy my work, but it seems like… fate."

Amelia's lips turned down and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bellatrix, but Dumbledore has already arranged a placement for Harry Potter. He says it is totally secure and that is the most important thing. He does have a point. The attack on you seems to have been a personal matter but the Longbottoms were targeted because of the fall of You-Know-Who. It could well be that other Death Eaters might go after little Harry. I'm afraid I can't see the Ministry or the Wizengamot overruling Dumbledore. There isn't much chance you'd be allowed to adopt the little boy."

Bellatrix sighed. "Oh, well, I suppose it wasn't meant to be. I'll be back at work as soon as they let me out of here. And I'll start working on my wandless magic right away."

"That reminds me," Amelia said. "You'd better have this back." She produced Bellatrix's wand and passed it to her. "I've had a guard posted on the ward while you were unconscious," she said, "just in case the Lestranges or Crouch Junior had any Death Eater friends who might want revenge on you, but I'm sure you'll feel better with your own wand. And this, too." She handed over Bellatrix's knife. "I've _Scourgified_ it, of course."

Bellatrix grinned as she took the weapon. "I should have Charmed it to be self-opening, and I will once I'm out of here," she said, "but it did the job."

"Indeed," Amelia said. "Well, I'd better be going. There's quite a queue of people wanting to visit you. Not just your parents but both your sisters."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "What, is Cissy crawling back to the Light side of the family now her husband's been thrown into Azkaban?"

Amelia grimaced. "He… wasn't. I'd better tell you what happened when Lucius Malfoy was arrested…"

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"You're my sister, and I love you," Bellatrix told Narcissa, "but your husband… I don't believe for a minute that he was under the _Imperius_ curse when he joined the Death Eaters. He knew what he was doing. And that means he chose the side of the bastards who fucking _sterilised_ me."

Narcissa lowered her eyes. "The Council accepted his plea," she said.

"The fucking Council was in a shambles after Crouch Junior turned out to be a Death Eater," Bellatrix said. "They just wanted to get things over and done with. And your darling Lucius," she spat the name out, "is a smooth-talking bastard and pulled the wool over their eyes nicely. Those 'charity donations' helped. I wonder how much of them went into pockets instead of good causes."

Narcissa shifted nervously in her seat beside the hospital bed. "Lucius intended them to be genuine charitable donations," she said. "If they were misappropriated, it's nothing to do with us."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "If you say so," she said. "I'll pretend to believe you. And, for your sake, I'll go along with the official line on your husband's innocence. Just don't expect me to be a frequent visitor to Malfoy Manor. Probably the only times I'll see you is in public places or at family gatherings. That way there'll be less chance of Lucius provoking me into giving him a _Reducto_ between the eyes."

"You wouldn't!" Narcissa exclaimed.

Bellatrix sighed. "You're right, I wouldn't," she said, "but it would be best if he didn't tempt me. So, I won't be coming around for dinner any time soon, and if you need a babysitter for Draco don't bother asking me. But I won't go out of my way to dig up dirt on Lucius, especially as I'm going to be concentrating on trying to clear Cousin Sirius for the time being."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "You don't think he's guilty?"

"Only of being an idiot," Bellatrix said. "You knew him at Hogwarts. I get confused about dates sometimes, with that six-year gap, but you must have been, what, three or four years ahead of him, right?"

"Four," Narcissa confirmed. "His Sorting was at the start of my OWLs year."

"Even so, I'd guess you must have noticed how close he was to Potter," Bellatrix said. "There is no way that he'd have betrayed him, unless he was tricked by someone using Polyjuice or something like that. Pettigrew, on the other hand, was a sycophantic hanger-on who I wouldn't have trusted with a bent Knut. He's much more likely to have been the traitor. Of course, when our idiot cousin blasted Pettigrew to pieces, he destroyed probably the only chance I had of proving it."

"Indeed so," Narcissa said, her tone non-committal.

Bellatrix suddenly remembered that Narcissa had an interest in Sirius not being cleared. If Sirius died, or was disinherited, that would make baby Draco the heir to the Black family wealth. Getting Sirius out of Azkaban would prolong his life and open up the possibility of him fathering a son, who would replace Draco in the line of succession, whereas keeping him in Azkaban would shorten his life expectancy drastically. It might be best to make Narcissa think that she'd given up. Certainly, it wouldn't be wise to mention the idea that she had just had about a way to improve conditions in Azkaban for Sirius. She needed to come up with some other topic, that would distract Narcissa, and she remembered something she had once thought about doing before discarding the idea as pointless. If she pretended that she was really going to do it Narcissa might be taken sufficiently aback to forget about Sirius.

Bellatrix sighed. "Oh, it's useless," she said. "I'd just be banging my head against a brick wall. I might as well not bother. If I find myself with time on my hands, after I get out of here, I think I'll write a new textbook for the Muggle Studies classes at Hogwarts."

Narcissa's eyebrows rose. "But why on Earth would you want to do that?"

"Because the existing textbooks are so outdated that they're pathetic," Bellatrix explained, "and I could do much, much, better. And it would be a guaranteed income. The pace of change in the Muggle world is so fast that a new edition would be needed every couple of years. I mean, in the six years that I lost I missed out on The Beatles breaking up, the UK introducing a completely new currency, and the Americans landing on the Moon!"

"They what?" Narcissa looked shocked.

"The American Muggles landed two men on the moon, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, on the twentieth of July 1969," Bellatrix expanded, "and brought them safely back to Earth. They sent a few more over the next couple of years, I forget exactly how many, and then they stopped because they were doing it mainly to score points over the Russians. Once they'd proved they could do it, I suppose they didn't see any point in spending a lot more money doing it over and over again."

"But… how could they do that?"

"You'll have to wait and buy my book," Bellatrix said. She only had a very rough idea of how the rockets had worked, in fact, but she knew she'd be able to find out, at least well enough to put it over to magicals, if she actually went ahead and wrote the book. The more she thought about it, the keener she was becoming, even though her original intention had only been to throw Narcissa off-balance so that she forgot about what Bellatrix had said about Sirius. It seemed to be working.

"You're really going to write a book about filthy Muggles?"

"Only about the clean ones," Bellatrix said. "Really, I think it could be fun. It would annoy some people, if I do a good job, and I always enjoy that. And, best of all, it could really show up and humiliate some of the idiots, such as Arthur Weasley, who think they know about Muggles but actually haven't a clue."

"They might read the book and learn from it," said Narcissa.

"Well, that would be a good thing, as they'd be able to do their jobs more effectively," Bellatrix said, "but it would be more fun if Arthur was sacked and left to starve in the gutter. I'll sabotage him by including a lot of words with more than two syllables."

Narcissa laughed. "A suitably Slytherin ambition," she said. "I hope you can carry it off."

"I should be able to get some time off as convalescent leave, once I'm out of here," Bellatrix continued. "I'll use that to gather some reference materials and make a start on the book." And to see what she could do about clearing Sirius of the betrayal, and to carry out the plan she'd come up with to help Sirius survive his time in Azkaban, but she wasn't going to mention that to Narcissa.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Padfoot heard the sound of guards approaching his cell and hastily reverted to his Sirius Black form. He could sense a Dementor in the vicinity but it wasn't close at hand. Normally the only visits by the guards were to bring the slop that passed for food rations in Azkaban, and it wasn't close to feeding time, and so Sirius guessed that another prisoner must be being brought in to be housed nearby. His guess was proven wrong when eyes appeared at the grille in his cell door, peering in, followed by the door being opened.

"Food parcel for you, you murdering bastard," the guard said. He was holding a large cardboard box. Behind him another guard had his wand aimed, covering Sirius, ready to prevent any attempt to escape. "I'd have just thrown it in the sea, if it was up to me, but the one who sent it has too much clout. I hope you choke on it." He put the box on the floor, kicked it forward, and then backed out of the cell. The door closed behind him.

Sirius stared at the box, unable to guess who might have sent him a food parcel, let alone someone with enough pull to get past the normal rules governing Azkaban. Uncle Alphard was dead, and although his mother had softened towards him to some extent, after the death of Regulus, he couldn't believe she'd changed her attitude that much. His friends outside the family presumably believed him guilty of betraying James and Lily, and so wouldn't lift a finger for him, and he couldn't think of anyone else. Well, he wasn't going to find out by standing staring, and so he gingerly approached the box, half expecting it to explode in his face when he opened it.

It didn't. Inside, at the top, was a letter addressed to him and a copy of the Daily Prophet. The main headline in the Prophet read 'Order of Merlin for Bellatrix Black!' Below it was a picture of his cousin, accepting the medallion of the Order (Second Class), with her usual enigmatic half-smile on her face. The letter, when he opened it, explained why the newspaper was there.

_Dear Idiot Cousin_, it began. _You might be a bit of a prick but you're still a Black and I don't want you to suffer too much. I have an Order of Merlin now, as you will see from the newspaper, and that's enabled me to get permission to send you food parcels. The food should keep you reasonably healthy and the chocolate should keep you sane. It's the classiest I could find and, honestly, it makes Honeydukes chocolate seem like Milky Way (that's a mediocre Muggle chocolate for small children) by comparison. It was a struggle to part with it! Don't eat it all at once, make it last. I plan to send parcels once a month. I told Fortnum and Mason I was buying for a naturalist cousin studying wildlife on a remote island in the Atlantic, with a supply boat going out only once a month, and no tins or bottles allowed because of discarded empties being hazardous to the birds and seals, and they helped me put a selection together._

_I'll explain more elsewhere. Remember what I said to James that time when you two were being particularly nasty to Severus!_

_Bellatrix_

Sirius puzzled over that last paragraph. He could remember the incident very clearly. It had been after they'd completed their OWL exams. They had hung Snivellus upside-down, exposing his underwear, and James had said "Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" Then an icy cold voice had cut in, threatening dire retribution in chilling terms, and James had been forced to back down before the furious, and universally feared, Seventh-Year Slytherin prefect Bellatrix. But why would she bring that up now? Unless… could it be a code phrase like the one on the Marauders' Map?

He looked at the letter and repeated the threat Bellatrix had made to James. "If his pants come off, so do your balls." The writing changed in front of his eyes.

_Sirius, you bloody idiot!_

_I don't believe you betrayed the Potters. You were far too devoted to James. I bet that sneaky little creep Pettigrew was the real Secret Keeper and you had the oh-so-clever idea of being a decoy. Idiot! And then you went after him for revenge, and used a blasting curse on him instead of a nice clean Reducto, and blew him to pieces. What happened, did you hit a gas main? Why didn't you come to me for help catching him? Just because I could never stand that arrogant git James – sorry to speak ill of the dead, but you know what I thought – doesn't mean I wanted him to get murdered, and I had nothing against Lily. It's going to be incredibly difficult for me to prove you innocent of the betrayal with Pettigrew dead, and even if I manage it you'll still be guilty of multiple counts of manslaughter, so at the very best you'll be stuck in Azkaban for at least ten years. Hopefully my food parcels will enable you to survive without suffering permanent damage or going crazy(er) from Dementor exposure._

_I've hidden this part of the letter because I don't want word to get out that I'm planning to get your sentence reduced. There are people who would try to stop me, if they knew, or even try to get you 'killed trying to escape'. I did let slip to Cissy that I didn't think you were guilty of the betrayal – sorry about that! – but I think I distracted her enough that she'll have forgotten about it. I tried to get permission to visit you but was denied. I couldn't push too hard, for fear of giving away too much, so you'll just have to wait until I rise a lot higher in the DMLE._

Sirius groaned. If Bellatrix had been able to visit him, he could have told her that Pettigrew was alive and a rat Animagus. That would have given her a huge head start in clearing his name. If only he could write a letter out – but that was forbidden and, as he had learned soon after his arrival here, even asking was met with punishment such as withholding meals or, as had been done to him, taking away the straw pallet that served as crude bedding. He gritted his teeth and read on.

_I've included a book of crosswords for you, and a stub of pencil – it had to be too small for you use it as a weapon, but it should last long enough. The crosswords are Muggle ones, so you might struggle, but that's just your tough luck. There's one in the Prophet, of course, which might be more your level._

_To make this message revert to the original text of the letter, say 'Thank you, cousin Bellatrix, you are amazing.'_

"Thank you, cousin Bellatrix, you are amazing," Sirius said, sincerely. The words changed again, and he set the letter aside and turned his attention to the rest of the box's contents.

There were cheeses, preserved meats, dried fruit, nuts, biscuits, and, of course, the chocolate. Plenty of everything. Most of the foods were in wrappers labelled 'Fortnum and Mason'; Sirius had thought that the names mentioned in Bellatrix's letter referred to two people, but now he realised it was the name of a Muggle shop. And, he realised after he had tasted some of the contents, an extremely high-class Muggle shop.

There was, indeed, a lot of chocolate. Some bore the 'Fortnum and Mason' label but there was also a selection box, of dark and milk chocolates, labelled 'Charbonnel et Walker'. He took one out, popped it into his mouth, and almost moaned in ecstasy at the smooth, rich, taste. Bellatrix hadn't been exaggerating when she described those chocolates as quite eclipsing Honeydukes.

In with the food was a book; _The 39th Pan Book of Crosswords_. He set it aside for the moment and turned to the newspaper. He started with the story about Bellatrix's Order of Merlin. When he'd seen the headline his first thought had been that she'd wangled it through her connections, and the Black family name, but on reading the citation he found himself whistling with admiration. She had been at the Longbottom house when it was attacked by the Lestrange brothers and Barty Crouch Junior. Her wand had been confiscated earlier, by Barty Crouch Senior, but she had still managed to protect baby Neville Longbottom from an attempted _Cruciatus_ curse and then, after being hit by a near-lethal curse herself, she had killed Rodolphus Lestrange with nothing but a knife. That had given Alice the chance to get free and fight back, blowing off Barty Junior's leg, and then stunning Rabastan. The two surviving Death Eaters had been sentenced to Azkaban, although Crouch Junior's transfer had been delayed due to his injury.

Sirius remembered hearing another prisoner being brought in, a few days before, although he hadn't known who it was. So, it had been Rabastan Lestrange? And Barty Crouch Junior would be joining him soon. Sirius hadn't known that Barty Junior had been a Death Eater but it didn't surprise him one bit. The Ravenclaw had been a couple of years behind him in Hogwarts, and not really someone who had registered on him much, but Barty Senior was a horrible person – he'd thought that even before the bastard had sent him straight to Azkaban without even a proper trial – and the son rebelling against his father by picking the opposite side wasn't unusual. After all, Sirius had done exactly that himself. As, indeed, had Andromeda and, after her mysterious six-year disappearance, Bellatrix – although Bellatrix had somehow managed to sway most of the family into at least tolerating her change of direction.

And now she had an Order of Merlin. Sirius regretted not doing what Bellatrix had said in her letter, and recruiting her to join him in going after Wormtail. Unfortunately, he hadn't completely trusted her, and hadn't been able to accept that her rejection of Pureblood supremacy was genuine, and their interactions at Hogwarts had inclined him towards avoiding her as much as possible. Her recent actions, as recounted in the paper, proved that he'd been very wrong and now he was suffering for his lack of trust. If he had approached her, he wouldn't be in this prison cell now, and Wormtail would either be dead or here in his place. Assuming they could keep a rat imprisoned…

Sirius put down the newspaper, and the chocolates, and went to the grille in the floor which served as the cell's toilet. He could hear the distant sound of the sea, and of seals on the rocks at the base of the island prison; so many seals that he guessed it must be their breeding season, although it seemed strange to him that they'd choose November rather than spring. There was enough light filtering up that he could work out that the aperture went all the way down and allowed the human waste to drop into the sea. A rat could escape that way, certainly, although then it would have to swim several miles to the shore of the mainland; or would it? A rat could sneak onto the boat that ferried prisoners, supplies, and changes of guard to and from the island. Yes, Peter would be able to escape. He needed to be killed.

Sirius contemplated using the same route to escape himself. The grille would come off, he was sure, and he thought he could work his way down the shaft. He couldn't survive the swim to shore in human form, of course, but Padfoot was a Newfoundland, superbly adapted to swimming, and he believed his chances of making it were better than even. Although perhaps not in November. And, even if he made it to the Northumberland shore alive, he'd be a hunted fugitive with Bellatrix probably the only person in the Wizarding World who wouldn't kill him on sight. It wasn't really a feasible plan, at least not at this time of year, and he decided to shelve the idea until summer at the earliest. With the food parcels from Bellatrix to supplement the prison rations he should be able to survive in reasonably good health. Perhaps she'd even be able to pull off getting him out of Azkaban without him having to risk his life escaping.

He turned away from the grille and went back to the chocolates, the newspaper, and the crossword book. He read more of the paper, giving a little inward cheer when he read of the demotion of Barty Crouch Senior to the less prestigious position of Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but wincing when he saw a mention of Bellatrix's unspecified injury being permanent. The paper assured its readers that it would not affect her fine service as an Auror but that was no reassurance. Something that wouldn't hinder her working as an Auror, but was permanent? Sirius guessed that meant a disfiguring scar, somewhere other than her face, and he didn't want to think about what Bellatrix's already hair-trigger temper might be like if she had suffered something like that. Rodolphus had got off lightly in only being knifed to death.

Sirius sensed a Dementor patrol in the vicinity and hastily ate another chocolate. The delicious confection flooded him with pleasurable sensation and warded off the aura of evil and depression emanating from the Dementors. It was even more effective than transforming into his dog form would have been and had the advantage that he could continue to read.

By the time darkness fell, and forced Sirius to break off from reading and making a start on the book of crosswords, he had eaten all the top layer of the selection box without realising how much he had consumed. He rather regretted being so greedy, as the supply would have to last a long time, but there was one more layer and the as yet untried Fortnum and Mason chocolate still remaining. He ate a tasty supper of preserved meat and some excellent cheese and crackers, transformed into Padfoot, curled up and went to sleep.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Padfoot woke in agony. His stomach seemed to be on fire, his heart was racing, and his limbs were trembling. His bowels churned and he staggered, on wobbly limbs, to the grille and relieved himself explosively. It didn't help. He could feel that his heartbeat was irregular and his vision, such as it was in the darkness of the cell in the middle of the night, seemed to be blurred. He realised that he was desperately ill, possibly even in danger of death, and fear gripped him. Had the food from Bellatrix been poison? Had the sentiments expressed in her letter merely been a ruse to lull any suspicions he might have had? It seemed a ridiculous idea but the pain made it hard to think. He had to do something. If he vomited up what he had eaten – but in the form of Padfoot he couldn't stick his fingers down his throat. He struggled to overcome the pain sufficiently to make the change. At last he managed to return to human form…

…and the pain eased. His heartbeat slowed and returned to a regular rhythm. His vision cleared. His limbs stopped trembling and he was able to get to his feet. Within a couple of minutes the searing agony had become nothing more than mild discomfort.

He stood, panting, and tried to make sense of what had happened. Padfoot had been poisoned, so severely that he might have died, and yet Sirius was almost unaffected. How…? Chocolate! He groaned as he remembered. Chocolate was toxic to dogs and yet harmless to humans. He'd eaten a large quantity of extremely rich chocolate, with a high proportion of those compounds most poisonous to dogs, and although he'd eaten it as a human it had still been in his stomach when he turned into a dog. If he hadn't been such a big dog it might have killed him before he could turn back. He would have to be much more careful, and less greedy, in the future.

There were Dementors in the vicinity, and he didn't dare turn back into Padfoot, and he didn't dare eat any more chocolate either. He would have to endure the depressing aura, try to fight it only with the encouraging thought that there was someone who believed in at least part of his innocence, and tough out the remainder of the night.

Sirius lay down, covered himself with the Daily Prophet as a poor substitute for a blanket, and tried to get back to sleep. The stone floor was hard, and cold, and he no longer had Padfoot's warm double-layered coat of fur to protect him. He shivered.

It was going to be a long, cold, night.


	4. Hearthammer

**Chapter 4: Hearthammer**

Uncle Vernon had been acting uncharacteristically well towards Harry, giving him a lift to King's Cross station as a side-trip on the journey to get Dudley's tail removed, and he'd even lifted Harry's heavy trunk onto a luggage trolley for him. Then it all turned sour as Vernon pointed gleefully to a sign pointing the way to platforms and said "Well, there you are, boy. Platforms 9, 10, and 11. Your platform should be there, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?" He sneered, turned around, said "Have a good term," in a mocking tone, and walked away with Dudley lumbering beside him.

Aunt Petunia rolled her eyes. Her lips were tight and she looked as if she was exasperated by Uncle Vernon's attitude, although that was little comfort to Harry, as normally she took out on him any annoyance Vernon or Dudley caused her. She jerked her head towards the sign, as if signalling something to Harry, and then she too turned and walked in the direction of the station exit.

Harry was left standing alone. There was nothing else that he could do but to start walking, pushing his laden trolly, in the direction indicated by the sign and Petunia's gesture. Platform 9¾ had to be there somewhere. He wished that Hagrid had given him more information. Perhaps he could ask someone… but anyone not aware of the magical world probably would think he was crazy.

There were quite a few people heading in the same direction but none of them wore anything resembling the outlandish outfits he'd seen in Diagon Alley. The most noticeable of those nearby were a fairly young and extremely pretty woman, dressed in a dove-grey jacket and skirt that even Harry could recognise as so well-cut that Aunt Petunia would probably die of envy if she saw them, and an almost equally pretty girl several years older than him. The girl was dressed in a school uniform but he doubted if it was that of Hogwarts; her navy-blue gymslip dress ended several inches above her knees. A battered felt school hat was perched on her head, she carried a hockey stick resting on one shoulder, and she was towing a wheeled suitcase that bore a sticky label bearing the legend 'The Luggage' and had pictures of many tiny feet along the bottom edge.

The sound of music on a radio drifted out from the nearby Café Select.

…_all summer long  
'Sweetheart of the Rodeo'  
Mining hearts of gold  
I think it was somewhere pre 'Stand Up' time  
Somewhere post 'Rubber Soul'_

_Hearthammer  
And I lose control  
Hearthammer…  
_

The girl swung her hockey stick down from her shoulder, held it up in front of her mouth as if it was a microphone, and mimed singing along. The woman laughed and began to play air guitar as she walked. The two looked somewhat alike, although the woman had hair so dark that it was almost black whereas the girl's hair was a much lighter shade of brown, and Harry guessed that they were closely related. Sisters, perhaps, as the age difference didn't seem great enough for them to be mother and daughter.

_There was the first caress  
There were the Labour years  
There was the man who walked the moon  
Something you never really believed_  
_The Di Stefano twists  
The Charlton goals  
Now I'm still here with the eyes of a child  
The wonder never grows old_

_Hearthammer  
And I lose control  
Hearthammer…  
_

Heads turned and gazes followed them as they proceeded toward the high-numbered platforms, still miming along to the song on the radio, until they were too far away and it faded out. Harry wasn't old enough to appreciate their beauty but he did observe the effect they were having on male bystanders. The two women were obviously having fun; Harry… wasn't.

He trudged along and reached the area of Platforms 9 and 10. A sleek InterCity train stood at Platform 9; the name-plate on the streamlined power car read 'Scottish Enterprise' and Harry briefly wondered if it might be his train. The sight of passengers of a mixture of ages boarding the carriages, all wearing normal clothes, told him that this was a regular train and nothing to do with Hogwarts. There was nothing between Platform 9 and Platform 10 other than a blank brick wall. Did he have to tap specific bricks with his wand, like the wall between the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley?

Harry saw a family ahead of him who didn't seem to fit in with the other people in the area. Four boys, a girl, and an older woman, all redheads, all badly-dressed; especially the woman, whose long dress was so shapeless that it might as well have been a sack. And… two of the boys, who looked so alike that they must have been twins, were holding broomsticks!

"Packed with Muggles, of course," the woman was saying, her voice loud enough to be clearly heard even over the roar of the InterCity train's engine starting up. This was positive confirmation that he'd found wizards. The group was odd enough that he could see heads turning as the ordinary passengers reacted to the strange word and the unusual mode of dress.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his trolley after them. He had just got close enough to hear the less loud members of the family when the woman he had noticed before spun around and strode rapidly toward the group, her high heels clicking on the concrete, her smile gone and replaced by a glare.

"Now, what's the platform number?" the redheaded woman asked. The girl in the group, smaller and probably younger than Harry, was just opening her mouth to reply when she was interrupted.

"Mrs Weasley!" the well-dressed woman snapped. She waved a hand and the bystanders, who had been staring at the red-headed family, turned away as if they had lost interest. "Kindly stop making an exhibition of yourself." Her voice carried a note of exasperation, reminding Harry of Aunt Petunia, but in the cut-glass tones of someone of a social class to which the Dursleys could only have dreamed of belonging.

"I've never been so insulted in my life!" the older woman, presumably Mrs Weasley, exclaimed. "How dare you!"

"Oh, I can do much better than that," said the younger woman.

Harry came to a halt. His plan to ask Mrs Weasley how to get to Platform 9¾ would have to be delayed. There seemed to be a row brewing and he had no intention of getting involved. He stood still, biting his lip, and looking up at the platform clock that was displaying a time drawing ominously closer to 11 o'clock. He would have to find someone else to ask, and within the next ten minutes, or else start tapping bricks at random and hope that it worked.

"You look a little lost." It was the girl in the school uniform, walking up to him, her eyebrows lowered in a frown. "You have an owl, so you must be going to Hogwarts. Haven't you been told how to get to the platform?"

At close quarters Harry could see that the school badge patch on her gymslip read _St. Trinians_, with a motto below that legend reading _Semper debeatis percutis ictu primo__._ A metal badge on the opposite side of the dress read _Head Girl_. Nothing about Hogwarts; but if she knew about it, she must be able to help.

"Uh, no," he said. "Hagrid just gave me the ticket. I didn't even realise that it said Platform nine and three quarters until after he'd said goodbye."

"_Hagrid_ gave it to you?" The girl's eyebrows shot up. "That's… not exactly usual. Oh, well, come with me and I'll show you how to go through the barrier." She led Harry to the apparently solid brick wall. "It's a kind of magic," she half-sung, as he stared at her uncomprehendingly, and then she added "You just walk through. Non-magicals can't get through the barrier, and they won't see you going through. To them, it will just seem that you walked around the wall, onto the other platform, and out of sight. Go on, walk through, and keep moving in case someone else comes through and bumps into you. I'll only be a moment behind you, I'm just going to say goodbye to my Aunt."

Harry cautiously walked forward and pushed the trolley at the wall. He braced himself for an impact but, instead, the trolley rolled smoothly forward and passed through the wall as if it wasn't there, progressively disappearing from his sight. His hands disappeared, then his arms, and then he was through and emerged onto another platform.

He saw a magnificent steam locomotive ahead of him, with crimson paintwork and gleaming brass metalwork, at the head of a long line of matching red carriages. A nameplate on the front of the engine read 'Hogwarts Express'. He took a few steps forward, as the girl had suggested, but then stopped and stared.

"Impressive, isn't it?" her voice came from behind him. "A Castle Class 4-6-0. Auntie is furious that it was repainted in LMS Crimson Lake, when it should be GWR Brunswick Green, and she's sure that it was only because green is Slytherin's colour. Still, it looks good in red, and I have to admit it would look terrible in Hufflepuff yellow, although Stevenson's Rocket looked great in our colours. Which reminds me," she added, as Harry turned to look at her, "I'd better change."

She drew a wand from out of her sleeve, pointed it at herself, and said "_Finite Incantatem_." Her clothes… transformed. Her felt hat became a witch's pointed hat, her tie changed colour from navy with light grey diagonal stripes to black with yellow stripes, and her gym slip lengthened dramatically and turned into black wizarding robes trimmed with yellow. Her _St. Trinians_ patch now read _Hufflepuff_ and bore an emblem of a stylised badger. Even her hair changed colour, from light brown to a dusky rose pink. Her hockey stick turned into a broomstick. Only her suitcase on wheels, and her Head Girl badge, remained unaltered.

"I never introduced myself," she said. "I'm Tonks, the Head Girl."

"Harry Potter," Harry replied.

Tonks' eyes widened. "You… don't look like I expected," she said. "Uh, right. Can you manage your trunk by yourself?"

"I think… yes," Harry said. Really, he wasn't sure that he would be able to get the trunk onto the train unaided, but he was reluctant to ask for help from a girl – even one obviously several years older, and significantly taller, than him.

"Hmm. Perhaps I'd better come along with you just in case," Tonks said. "The Head Girl always sits in a compartment at the front, so that people will know where to find me, but by this time all the free seats will be near the back. Come with me if you want to live."

That last comment made Harry a little nervous, but she was smiling and it didn't seem to have been a threat, and he followed as she led the way along the platform. There was quite a crowd of people there, both children and adults, some making their way along the platform and others saying goodbye either on the platform or with children leaning out of the train windows. Tonks exchanged greetings with several families as they passed, including a particularly warm exchange with a smartly-dressed couple and their slightly chubby-cheeked son of about Harry's age, and with other students of around her own age. She seemed to be well-known and very popular, not surprisingly if she was the Head Girl, and no-one was taking much notice of Harry tagging along with her. This was a pleasant change, after the fuss the people at the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley had made, and Tonks wasn't subjecting him to the same excessive attention; only being helpful and pleasant.

"I'll get you aboard," Tonks said, as they neared the second-to-last carriage and saw that there were several empty compartments, "and then I'll head off to my own compartment. I'll be around later, doing my patrol of the train, and I'll give you a few tips about the journey and Hogwarts then."

"Thank you," Harry said. "You've been very helpful."

"It's what Hufflepuffs do," Tonks said. Her voice was almost drowned out by a woman's voice approaching from behind.

"…that horrible woman," the voice was saying. Harry glanced around and saw that it was Mrs Weasley, accompanied by her throng of children. "Who does she think she is, speaking to me like that? And to think that we've actually had to buy two of her books. What were you thinking of, signing up for Muggle Studies?"

"It would help us understand Dad's job," one of the twins said.

"And last year's class said it was great," the other twin chimed in.

"Arithmancy is a waste of time," said the first twin.

"And everyone says the Divination class is a load of rubbish," said the second.

"Which left Muggle Studies,"

"Ancient Runes,"

"…and Care of Magical Creatures,"

"…and so those are what we're taking," the twins declared together.

"Humph!" Mrs Weasley snorted. "I've a good mind to send that hussy a Howler."

"No, mum, that would be a very bad idea," the oldest-looking boy protested. "You'd get arrested for attacking an Auror."

"Perhaps not, then, but rest assured I shall be complaining to the DMLE about the way she spoke to me. Now, on the train, everybody. No, not you, Ginevra."

As the family had been talking Tonks had been hoisting Harry's trunk up onto the train. She lifted up her own suitcase, with much greater ease, and then boarded the train with Harry, carrying Hedwig's cage, close behind. They made their way along the corridor, passing a couple of compartments that were occupied but not full, until they reached an empty one. Tonks helped Harry stash his trunk in the corner of the compartment and then went to the door.

"I'll pop in later and give you a bit of a briefing," she said. "For now, I'll just say don't stuff yourself with sweets if the refreshment trolley comes around before I return. I'll be back!"

Harry sat down and gazed out of the window. He saw the red-haired boys swarming aboard the train, leaving their mother and little sister waving on the platform, and then heard a whistle blow. It was answered by a much louder and more piercing whistle, from the engine, and then the carriage jerked as the train started to move. He was on his way to Hogwarts!

He continued to watch out of the window as the train accelerated out of the station. His thoughts drifted back to Tonks, and what he'd seen of her and her aunt on the way to the train; their relationship seemed so completely different from that between him and Aunt Petunia that he could hardly believe it – and even more unlike his relationship with his positively vile Aunt Marge. If only he had had an aunt like that… although Tonks' aunt had seemed quite scary as she scolded Mrs Weasley. He wondered what that had been about. Had it been because Mrs Weasley had said 'Muggles', very loudly, in the midst of people who weren't freaks… wizards? Whatever the reason, an aunt who was a fun friend to him, but stern to other people, would have been infinitely better than what he had endured.

His musings were interrupted by the compartment door opening. A boy stood there; the youngest of the four boys from the family of red-heads. He was quite a bit taller than Harry, but just as thin, with a freckled face and a large nose.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "My brothers are being a pain."

"No, feel free," Harry said. It might be nice to have some company on the journey.

"I'm Ron," the red-headed boy said. "Ron Weasley."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry responded, just as two other boys appeared at the door. The twins from the Weasley family.

"You're Harry Potter? Really?" exclaimed one.

"Would you show us," said the other.

"Your scar?" the first completed the request.

Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Harry complied, and swept his fringe aside to reveal the lightning-bolt scar.

"Wow!" Ron exclaimed. "You're really Harry Potter!"

"Uh, yes," Harry said. He was worried that the boys would start to pester him, the way the wizards at the Leaky Cauldron had done, but in fact they made only a few remarks. The twins introduced themselves as Fred and George and then announced that they were leaving.

"We're going down the middle of the train," one said. Harry hadn't been able to keep track of which one was Fred and which George.

"Lee Jordan has a giant tarantula," said the other. "Want to come, Ron?"

"And you, Harry?" the first added.

Ron shuddered. "No thanks," he said firmly. "I don't like spiders."

"Me neither," Harry agreed, although in fact he had nothing against them. There had been times, in his cupboard, when watching a spider spin its web had been his only entertainment. A giant tarantula might be a bit much, though. Mostly he wanted to avoid the more crowded parts of the train where, now that people knew his name, he might be subjected to too much attention.

The twins departed and Harry talked with Ron for a while. Ron asked some questions that probed a little too deeply for Harry's liking, but he was able to divert the conversation to the subject of Ron's family.

"What was that fuss on the platform about, when that very smart woman was angry with your mother?" Harry asked, after a few more general questions.

Ron frowned. "She reckoned Mum was breaking the Statute of Secrecy," he said, "just 'cos she said 'Muggles'. And she told Fred and George off for having brooms. Mental, if you ask me."

"What's the 'Statute of Secrecy'?" Harry asked.

"We're not supposed to do stuff that will let Muggles know about Wizards," Ron explained. "If we're around Muggles we mustn't do any magic, or talk about Wizard stuff, and we have to wear Muggle clothes."

Harry was about to point out that the twins carrying broomsticks had looked distinctly odd, and to contrast them with Tonks carrying her broomstick in the form of a perfectly normal hockey stick, but he didn't want to seem to be siding with the other woman against Ron's family and held back. Instead he asked "What's an Auror?"

"They catch Dark Wizards," Ron said. "Sort of like Muggle Please-men."

"Please-men?" Harry was puzzled for a second. "You mean policemen?"

Ron bridled. "Please-men," he repeated. "That's what Dad calls them, and he should know. His job is working with Muggle things."

"Oh. Right," Harry said, tactfully deciding not to antagonise a potential friend by criticising his father. He was beginning to think that the smartly-dressed woman, Tonks' aunt, had been in the right but wasn't going to say so. "All your family are wizards, then?"

"Uh, yes," said Ron, "except I think Mum has a cousin who's an accountant, but we don't talk about him." They talked about their families for a while, with Harry saying the minimum possible about his relatives, and Ron told Harry that he had two other older brothers, who had already left Hogwarts, besides the three Harry had already seen and his sister. The large family meant that most of Ron's possessions were hand-me-downs; even his pet, a fat and sleepy rat, had belonged to his brother Percy previously.

When the conversation turned to magic, Ron told Harry that his brother George had told him a spell that was supposed to turn the rat yellow, but when he had tried it nothing had happened. He tried again, reciting a doggerel rhyme and waving his rather battered wand, and was met with failure.

"When Tonks cast a spell on her clothes, she said something foreign, I think it might have been Latin," Harry said. "It didn't sound anything like what you just did."

"Yeah," Ron said, glumly, "George must have been having me on. They like playing tricks on people. Usually me, when we're at home."

Harry thought that a trick like that, which seemed to him merely a bit of a leg-pull, was infinitely better than the malicious, and usually physically violent, tricks that Dudley played on him. And if Ron had second-hand things, it would have been because his parents couldn't afford to get everything new for such a large brood. When Harry was given Dudley's cast-offs, it was because the Dursleys bitterly begrudged spending anything on him, despite having ample for anything they or Dudley wanted, and wouldn't get him anything new unless there was no way of avoiding it; he might not even have been given glasses if the NHS ones hadn't been free. Once more he wished that he could have had a proper family. If not an actual mother and father, and perhaps brothers and sisters, then at least an aunt like the woman Mrs Weasley had described as 'horrible', in place of his genuinely horrible aunts, and a sister or cousin like Tonks.

Even as that thought was passing through his mind, Tonks appeared at the compartment door. "Wotcher, Harry," she said, as she entered. "Told you I'd be back. Made a friend?"

"Uh, yes," Harry said, although at this stage it might have been stretching a point. "Ron Weasley."

"I guessed as much, from the hair," Tonks said. "Hello, Ron. I dated your brother Charlie for a while, last year. It… didn't work out."

"Uh, hello," Ron said, looking at Tonks with an expression that Harry interpreted as suspicion.

"Okay, things you need to know," Tonks said. "The train will be stopping at Peterborough, York, Newcastle, and Edinburgh. On other journeys it might stop at Doncaster, Darlington, or Glasgow but this year there aren't any pupils who would have been getting on at those stations. You can't get off at any of the stops. The doors won't open for you. If you somehow did manage to get off, by pushing past someone as they got on, you'd probably be stranded as the stops are very brief. So, just… don't."

"We won't," said Harry.

"I didn't know the train stopped at other stations," Ron said. "Mum and Dad never said anything about that."

"It's only been doing it for the past three years," Tonks said. "My parents managed to persuade the Wizengamot that it was bloody stupid for pupils from the North to have to trail down to London just to go back north again."

Harry asked about the 'Wizengamot' and was told that it was the Wizard equivalent of Parliament. Ron's expression indicated to Harry that, to Ron, it was more like finding out that Parliament was the 'Muggle' equivalent of the 'Wizengamot'. Ron really didn't seem to know much about the normal world at all, whereas Tonks, who had been miming along to a song on the radio that Harry had never heard before, probably knew a lot more about it than Harry.

"There's another stop, just short of Newcastle, to top up the engine's water," Tonks went on. "We use a spell called _Aguamenti_, instead of the non-magical water tanks, and it only takes a couple of minutes. Again, the doors won't let you out. I'm only telling you so you won't think something's gone wrong."

"Thanks," said Harry.

"The snack trolley will come around shortly after we depart from Peterborough," Tonks continued. "The pumpkin pasties are disgusting, but there are Cornish pasties, and sausage rolls, if you ask for them. They're not on display because the trolley lady thinks they're 'too Muggle'. You'll need to eat something, as it's a long journey, but don't stuff yourselves with nothing but sweets. There'll be a massive feast when we get to Hogwarts and you won't enjoy it as much if you've filled up with chocolate and sugar."

"Mum gave me sandwiches," Ron said.

"Good thinking," said Tonks. "Now, one last thing. The Hogwarts Houses. Ron, you probably know all about them, but Harry might not."

"I met a boy in Madam Malkins who mentioned them," Harry said. "He expected to be in Slytherin and said that he'd rather die than go to Hufflepuff."

"That sounds like my obnoxious, stuck-up, cousin," Tonks said. "Was he very blond, and did he talk about his father a lot?"

"That's right," Harry confirmed. "He's your cousin?" He couldn't see that boy, to whom the words 'obnoxious' and 'stuck-up' definitely seemed to apply, as being the son of the woman Tonks had said was her aunt, although they did have similar accents.

"Unfortunately, yes," Tonks said. "Draco Malfoy. He probably _would_ die if he was Sorted into Hufflepuff. The tenth time he started going on about his father somebody would kill the little shit. Badgers have teeth."

Ron laughed. "He belongs in Slytherin," he said. "All Slytherins are evil and nasty."

Tonks glared at him. "My _mother_ was in Slytherin," she said, her voice icy enough to make a polar bear shiver, "as well as both my aunts." Ron cringed. Tonks relaxed and her glare became a smile. "Although I'll concede that Slytherin does have a higher proportion of stuck-up gits, including the creep my Aunt Cissy married, and it might not be the most pleasant place for you two."

Harry deduced that 'Aunt Cissy' wasn't the aunt who had accompanied Tonks through King's Cross and that the boy Draco was almost certainly Cissy's son. He hoped that he wasn't 'Sorted', whatever that was, into Slytherin.

"Okay, carrying on," Tonks said. "The Houses are supposed to represent character traits. Slytherin is cunning and ambition, Ravenclaw is intelligence, wisdom, and learning, Hufflepuff is loyalty and hard work, and Gryffindor is brainless courage and charging into things without thinking."

Ron bridled. "My parents were Gryffindors, and my brothers are all in Gryffindor," he said, trying to emulate Tonks' icy tone but sounding only petulant.

"I know," Tonks said. "I dated your brother Charlie, remember, and Percy is a Prefect under me this year. And everyone knows the Terrible Twins. Seriously, I was pulling your leg a little, and getting my own back for what you said about Slytherin. Two of my Aunt Bella's best friends, the Longbottoms, were Gryffindors. Of course, Hufflepuff is the best House, but I'm biased."

"How do they decide what House you're in?" Harry asked.

"Ah, that's a secret," Tonks said. "It's a long-standing tradition not to tell the First Years about the Sorting before it happens."

"Fred and George told me that you have to wrestle a troll," said Ron.

"Now, how would a troll know what traits a kid possesses?" Tonks said. "And you should have known better than to believe those two troublemakers. Really, it's not something you need to worry about. All I'll say is that, unless it's very clear which House would suit you best, you'll probably go to the one your other family members are in, or were in. My Dad was Hufflepuff. Harry, your parents were Gryffindors."

Harry's heart leapt. He almost asked if Tonks had known them but then realised that she was far too young. "Did your parents, or your aunt, know my parents?" he asked instead.

"They overlapped with them at Hogwarts," Tonks said. "They… weren't close. Now, I'd better be off, if I'm to see all the new First Years before we get to Peterborough. And then, as Head Girl, I get to go through to the footplate and eat butties with bacon cooked on the fireman's shovel. I did that once, when Auntie Bella took me to the Watercress Line, and the bacon butties were scrumptious. I probably won't come round again, but the Prefects will be round a few times. See you at Hogwarts!"

After Tonks left Harry resumed talking with Ron. He wanted Ron to tell him about the magical world, and in exchange Harry would have told Ron about the Muggle world, but Ron wasn't interested. He was, though, happy to tell Harry lots of things about living with magic.

Harry tried to work out the speed at which the train was travelling, by counting out the time between passing two mileposts, and came to the conclusion that they were going at seventy-five miles an hour. Ron was dubious at first, and said that Harry had just guessed, but when Harry explained exactly how he had worked it out Ron's scepticism turned to amazement. For a while Harry thought that Ron must be stupid, but further conversation showed that in fact Ron was reasonably bright; just badly educated, and uninterested in anything he saw as 'Muggle'. Although he was astonished when a Muggle train overtook the Hogwarts Express, going at least forty miles per hour faster, and could hardly believe that anything could go that fast without magic.

Before much longer the train slowed down as it approached Peterborough. The stop was, as Tonks had said, very brief and then it was off again. A few minutes later a girl, probably about the same age as the two boys, appeared at the door of their compartment.

"Are those seats free?" she asked. "Is it okay if I join you?" She had a mane of bushy brown hair, and was slightly buck-toothed, and she was wearing Hogwarts robes that didn't show any House colours.

Harry glanced at Ron, saw no sign of objection, and nodded. "Come in, there's plenty of room," he said. "Did you get on at Peterborough?"

"No, I've been on since King's Cross," the girl said, as she sat down next to Harry. "I was in a compartment with some other boys and girls who all knew each other, and a friend of theirs got on and there wasn't room for her, so I offered to find another seat. Are you First Years too?"

The two boys had just introduced themselves, and been told that the girl's name was Hermione Granger, when the snack trolley arrived outside the compartment door. Ron didn't purchase anything, as his mother had packed him sandwiches, but Harry decided to indulge himself. The range of sweets was unfamiliar to him, obviously brands unique to the Wizarding World, and he bought three each of everything. He wasn't going to eat them all, as Tonks' advice about not spoiling his appetite for the feast sounded sensible, but he would eat some now, save some for later, and offer to share with the other two. Hermione abstained from sweets, remarking that her parents were dentists, but bought pasties.

The pumpkin pasties were disgusting, as Tonks had warned, at least to Harry and Hermione. Ron, however, was happy to swap his corned beef sandwiches for them. The sweets were mostly nice, although no better than the non-magical equivalents, but Harry soon resolved never, ever, to risk eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans again after getting one that he thought might have been dog food and another that he suspected was that dish Icelanders made by burying a shark and letting it rot. Ron ate them all regardless. The most interesting of the sweets were Chocolate Frogs; the chocolates themselves were nothing special but the packs included collectible cards depicting famous wizards, of the past and present, with their pictures and a potted biography. And the pictures moved!

One of the cards was of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. The achievements listed on his card were impressive, undoubtedly, but Harry decided to reserve judgement until he'd seen Dumbledore in person. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to have a major case of hero-worship for Dumbledore, based on things she had read in books rather than just on the Chocolate Frog card. Almost everything Hermione said, and it was a lot, came from things she had read in books. Some of it had was about Harry, all of it inaccurate, and she was shocked when he contradicted her. She seemed almost to believe that Harry must be wrong about his own life but, eventually, was forced to concede that, in this instance at least, the books were either mistaken or flat-out lying. It didn't affect her reverence for Albus Dumbledore, though, and she was talking about how she hoped to be Sorted into either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff when the compartment received more visitors.

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment." It was the slim blond boy Harry had met at Madame Malkin's, accompanied by two thickset, sullen-looking, boys who stood behind him. Harry was unpleasantly reminded of Dudley and his gang. "So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," Harry admitted. "And you're Draco Malfoy, right? I recognise you from your cousin's description."

"Uh, yes, that's me," Draco said, seemingly thrown slightly off his stride. He took a deep breath and then jerked his thumb at the boys behind him. "These are Crabbe and Goyle," he said.

"Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger," Harry introduced his companions.

Draco looked at Hermione. "Are you our sort of people?" he asked.

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione said. "My parents are dentists."

Draco sniffed. "That's some Muggle thing, isn't it?" he said. "You're a Muggle-born, then?"

"Yes, I am," Hermione confirmed. "And what's wrong with that?"

Draco didn't answer but, instead, turned to look at Ron. "And a Weasley. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

"And your cousin told us that you were a little shit who'd get killed if he was Sorted into Hufflepuff," Ron retorted. Harry couldn't help laughing.

"You think that's funny?" Draco snarled. "I was going to offer to introduce you to the right sort of people, but you can forget it. Blood Traitors and Mudbloods are about your level. I'll leave you to them, but first I'll take some of those sweets."

He reached out to grab a handful of the sweets that still lay on the seat beside Harry. The movement startled Ron's rat, who squeaked and bit Draco's hand. The blond boy yelped, snatched back his hand, turned and scurried out of the compartment and away. His two companions lumbered after him.

"Well done, Scabbers," said Ron, petting the rat and feeding it a discarded piece of corned beef sandwich.

Harry and Hermione added their praise, although Hermione's nose wrinkled as she said it. Harry guessed that she wasn't keen on rats. He wasn't particularly keen on them himself but was a lot less keen on Draco Malfoy – although, he thought, there was a resemblance. He really didn't fancy being in the same House as a cross between Dudley Dursley and a rat; consequently, as Draco seemed convinced that he would be in Slytherin, it went right to the bottom of Harry's list of preferences.

The rest of the journey was fairly uneventful. Hermione went back to her original compartment, retrieved her trunk, and brought it back to the compartment she was sharing with Harry and Ron. While she was away Ron remarked "She doesn't half go on. Whichever House she's in, I hope I'm not in it."

"She's not too bad," Harry said, "and definitely much better than that Malfoy git."

Ron laughed. "Too right," he said. "It would be much worse to be in the same House as him. Bet he'll be in Slytherin."

They continued to discuss the Houses for a while after Hermione returned. She revealed that her heart had been set on Gryffindor, because that had been the House that Dumbledore had been in, and her second choice would have been Ravenclaw. This had changed because she, like Harry, had been seriously impressed by Tonks and now she was wavering between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Ron was less of a fan of Tonks, perhaps because she was the niece of the woman who had scolded his mother on the platform, and consequently still placed Hufflepuff as his third choice behind Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Harry was tending toward Hufflepuff, with Gryffindor as second choice, as he didn't see himself as particularly clever and therefore Ravenclaw was unlikely.

Harry's mind wandered and he wondered how Sorting by wrestling a troll would actually work. Trolls, according to Ron, were huge and stupid, but extremely strong, monsters. All the students would lose, of course, so it would have to be based on how you chose to fight it rather than on victory or defeat. Vernon and Dudley had watched _World of Sport_ wrestling on Saturday afternoons when Harry was younger, before ITV stopped showing it, and Harry had paid close attention because Dudley had a habit of trying out the holds on him. He decided that potential Gryffindors would tackle the troll head on, sticking to the rules, and acknowledging any skilful moves by the troll with a nod or a handshake. Slytherins would fight dirty, ignoring the referee, and going for low blows. Hufflepuffs would pair up and tag-team the troll. Ravenclaws would be smart enough to know the odds were against them, and would back-pedal to keep out of the troll's reach, but if caught would try to use judo throws. He shared his thoughts with the other two; Hermione laughed and agreed that, yes, that was exactly how it would work. Ron wanted to know what 'judo' was.

There was only one sport that interested Ron; Quidditch. Harry's entire knowledge of Quidditch came from a passing mention by Draco, when they had met in Madame Malkin's, and a brief and confusing explanation from Hagrid. He soon learned a lot about it; more, in fact, than he had wanted to know. He and Ron might have thought that Hermione talked excessively but compared with Ron on the topic of Quidditch Hermione was positively taciturn.

And, indeed, Hermione was much less talkative for the remainder of the journey. Either her initial gushing had been because she had been nervous when meeting new people, and had eased off now she had relaxed, or else she had been stunned into relative silence by Ron's flood of Quidditch information. She opened her trunk and got out a couple of books, and offered to share her reading material with the boys; Harry gratefully accepted, as the only books he had were the ones on his school book list, but Ron stuck to _Quidditch Through The Ages_.

Between the books, conversation, and looking at the scenery they managed to keep occupied throughout the long journey. It passed surprisingly quickly and almost before they knew it a Prefect, not Ron's brother, was calling at their compartment to tell them that they were nearly there and they should put on their robes. They were to leave their trunks on the train, he told them, and it would be collected and taken to the school separately.

The train reached Hogsmeade, the little village that housed the station for Hogwarts, just after the sun had set. Harry didn't have a watch but Hermione told him that it was ten to nine. Harry was getting hungry enough to regret not having eaten all the sweets but he would certainly have a good appetite for the promised feast.

Once out of the train, and on the platform, Harry saw Hagrid holding a lantern and calling "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" The three children, and a number of others from the rest of the train, assembled by Hagrid and he led them off in one direction, whilst the pupils from other years followed Tonks and the Prefects by a different way.

The First Years were led to the banks of a lake, or perhaps a loch as it was in Scotland, and then to where a fleet of small boats were waiting. On the far side of the lake a castle stood on a hill; it was silhouetted against the darkening sky, its windows gleaming with light, and looked very impressive. They sailed across the lake to the side where the castle loomed, disembarked, and were led by Hagrid up to the castle's main door.

There they were met by a tall, stern-faced, witch. Hagrid addressed her as 'Professor McGonagall'. She took over from Hagrid and led the First Years into the castle along a corridor illuminated by flaming torches like something from an old Errol Flynn Robin Hood film, or the new Kevin Costner one that the Dursleys had taken Dudley to see, leaving Harry at home alone, just before the flood of Hogwarts letters had started to arrive.

Professor McGonagall took them into a side room, and gave them a brief talk about the Sorting, then left them to smarten themselves up before their entrance into the main hall. Their brushing of hair and tightening of ties was interrupted by a swarm of ghosts; much to Harry's alarm, until he realised that they were friendly ghosts. Then Professor McGonagall returned and led them into the Great Hall.

It was a huge room, filled with students, illuminated by hundreds of candles. Above them was what appeared to be the open sky but was in fact, as Hermione explained with a quote from _Hogwarts: A History_, a ceiling enchanted to look like the sky. Harry thought that a glass ceiling might have been a lot simpler but he supposed it would be 'Too Muggle'.

Professor McGonagall placed an old, frayed, wizards' pointy hat on a stool and, to Harry's amazement, the hat opened a mouth that had seemed to be only a rip and began to sing. It sang about hats, then about the Hogwarts Houses, and announced that it was the Sorting Hat. McGonagall unrolled a parchment scroll and told the students that, when she called their names, they were to go to the stool, put on the Hat, and sit down. She began with "Abbot, Hannah."

A girl with blonde pigtails stepped out of the line, put on the Hat, and sat down as instructed. The Hat announced "Hufflepuff" and Hannah took off the Hat, rose, and went over to the table at which the students were wearing black and yellow. Tonks was at the head of that table and led the pupils there in cheering and clapping loudly.

"Bones, Susan," McGonagall called, and a pretty red-headed girl went through the same procedure. Once more the Hat declared "Hufflepuff!" There was more cheering and clapping from the Hufflepuff table as she went to it and sat down.

'Boot, Terry' went to Ravenclaw, to applause from that table, as did 'Brocklehurst, Mandy'. 'Brown, Lavender' became the first Gryffindor. 'Bulstrode, Millicent' went to Slytherin. The roll proceeded through the alphabet until it reached 'Granger, Hermione'. She sat there for much longer than any of the previous Sortees before the Hat eventually shouted "Gryffindor!" Ron groaned.

When the roll reached 'Longbottom, Neville', and he was Sorted into Hufflepuff, Tonks yelled "Yay! We got Neville!" and the table erupted in the loudest applause yet. Neville, who was the rather round-faced boy Harry had noticed Tonks speaking to on the King's Cross platform, was bright red in the face as he made his way over to the Hufflepuff table. Tonks greeted him by ruffling his hair, laughing, and Harry realised she must have been teasing the boy who, if Harry remembered correctly what Tonks had said on the train, would be the son of the couple she'd named as two of her aunt's closest friends.

Draco Malfoy went to Slytherin, to where his two thuggish companions had preceded him, as he had predicted. It seemed to Harry that more of the new pupils were going to Hufflepuff than to any other House but he wasn't keeping a careful enough count to be sure that his impression was correct. The list reached names beginning with P and Harry's heart began to hammer.

'Parkinson, Pansy', Slytherin. 'Patil, Padma', Ravenclaw. 'Patil, Parvati', obviously a twin to Padma, Gryffindor. 'Perks, Sally-Anne', Hufflepuff. And then, at last, 'Potter, Harry'.

Harry donned the Hat and heard a voice speaking apparently inside his head.

"Well, what have we here?" said the Hat. "Plenty of courage, forged in adversity. Not a bad mind, but not used to being stretched. A nice thirst to prove yourself, although perhaps a slight lack of self-confidence. Where should I put you?"

"Not Slytherin," Harry thought. "Hufflepuff, please."

"Ah, another one who has been swayed by Miss Tonks," the Hat said. "No, I don't think so. Not enough commitment to hard work to truly belong in Hufflepuff. Better be… GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted aloud to the whole hall. Harry took off the Hat, feeling slightly disappointed, but Gryffindor would have been his second choice. He was greeted by applause as he went to the Gryffindor table, louder than any previous applause except for when Neville Longbottom went to Hufflepuff, and he heard Ron's twin brothers chanting "We got Potter! We got Potter!" He cast a glance over to the Hufflepuff table and saw Tonks mouthing something to him; he read it as 'Tough luck!'

He took a seat next to Hermione, facing towards the High Table where the members of staff sat, and watched as the rest of the Sorting proceeded. After a few more pupils it was time for a nervous-looking Ron, who relaxed as the Hat shouted "Gryffindor!" Harry applauded as Ron made his way to the Gryffindor table and found a seat opposite him. And then, after a brief and exceedingly strange opening speech from Headmaster Dumbledore, food magically appeared on the plates in front of the children and it was time to eat.

During the meal Harry suffered an odd pain in his scar, as he was looking across at the High Table, but it quickly passed. After the meal Headmaster Dumbledore made a speech that was, if anything, even odder than his opening remarks. He stated that a corridor on the Third Floor was out of bounds to anyone who did not want to suffer a painful death, which Harry thought was something of an excessive threat in a school, and after a few more remarks about forbidden places and items declared that they were going to sing the school song. A flick of his wand produced a string of words, which hovered in the air, and then he said "Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

It was cacophony, as Harry would have expected, and he was glad when it was over. Dumbledore seemed to have enjoyed it, which implied that the strange old man had no taste whatsoever or was tone deaf, and he was beaming as he sent the children off to bed.

By the time Harry and the others had been escorted to the Gryffindor dormitory by the prefects, and he had found his bed, he was tired and very sleepy. He was glad to get into bed.

It had been a very long, although often enjoyable, day.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Disclaimer: The _Harry Potter_ series is the property of J K Rowling. The song that Bellatrix and Tonks mimed along to at King's Cross was _Hearthammer_, by Runrig. It was No. 25 in the official UK charts on the day that Harry set off for Hogwarts. All the songs I use in this story, either quoted or used as chapter titles, will be historically correct. I'm obsessive that way.

Author's Note: if anyone is puzzled by Tonks' presence at Hogwarts in the year in question, it's the Butterfly Effect in action. The ripples in the time-line caused by Bellatrix's disappearance made enough difference for Tonks to be conceived just slightly later than in canon, so that she was born in September 1973, just late enough to miss the cut-off date for starting in the 1984-85 school year. There have been other changes…


	5. Everything I Do, I Do It for You

**Chapter 5: Everything I Do, I Do It for You**

"No, Tonks, I did not take a break from school to act as the Sheriff of Nottingham in _Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves_," Professor Snape said, with a sigh. "Nor did I dye my hair, adopt a German accent, and rob the Nakatomi Plaza. Please stop."

"As you wish, Uncle Sev," Tonks said. There was a wide grin on her face.

Snape sighed again. "Don't call me that, _Nymphadora_," he said. "I admire and respect your Aunt Bellatrix but I have no romantic interest in her whatsoever."

"If you say so, Professor," Tonks said, still grinning.

"I do," Snape said. "Now, be off with you! The First Years are starting to arrive for their class."

"Happy trails, Hans," Tonks said, as she started to walk away. "I mean Professor Snape. Yippee-ki-yay."

Snape turned to where Harry and his classmates were assembling. "What was Dumbledore thinking when he made her Head Girl?" he muttered, under his breath, and then he fixed the First Years with an intimidating glare. The ones who were trying to suppress sniggers at once fell silent. "Don't just stand there, get into the classroom," Snape ordered. "Find a desk, sit down, and be quiet."

Once everyone was in the room, and seated, Snape addressed the class. "Some of you will have overheard the conversation between myself and Miss Tonks. Yes, I am aware that I bear a resemblance to the talented Muggle actor Alan Rickman. Remarks about it in class would be a… mistake. I permit Miss Tonks a certain amount of familiarity because she is not only Head Girl but also a quite exceptional student. Her work has been consistently at Outstanding level since she was your age. She observes perfect decorum within class. I shall expect the same from all of you. If you behave yourselves, and achieve a similar standard of work, then when you are Seventh Years, and on course for Outstandings in your NEWTs, I _may_ allow you some leeway in our interactions out of class. Until that day, you will be obedient and respectful at all times. Is that clear?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, Sir," or "Yes, Professor Snape," from all the class.

"One more thing," Snape said. "You may have heard me address Miss Tonks by her first name. I strongly recommend that you do not follow my example. She dislikes that name and, I assure you, the Head Girl has almost as many ways of making your lives thoroughly miserable as any teacher. Now, the roll."

He paused when he reached Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said. "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered. Harry ignored them. "Here, sir," he said, and Snape moved on to the next name.

With the roll call concluded, Snape gave an eloquent speech about Potions that made the subject seem fascinating, except for the part where he implied that most of his students were dunderheads. Harry was impressed and thought that he would enjoy doing Potions. He had been extremely nervous on the way to the class, as he had heard from older pupils that Snape was strict, often so harsh that it verged on cruelty, and biased against Gryffindors. The conversation with Tonks that he had overheard seemed to show another side of Snape and Harry had been able to relax.

"Potter," Snape said, unexpectedly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry was caught somewhat by surprise and searched his memory. "I think it makes a sleeping potion, sir," he said, glad that the Hat's remark about him lacking a commitment to hard work had motivated him to re-read the first couple of chapters of the relevant textbooks before each lesson.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Correct, Potter," he said. "It does indeed make a sleeping potion, one so potent that it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry's brow furrowed as he thought. There hadn't been any mention of bezoars in the chapters he had read but the name rang a bell… from something before Hogwarts… a story-book… "In the stomach of an orang-utan, sir," he said.

Some of the other pupils laughed. Malfoy's laughter sounded particularly malicious. Snape, however, took a step backwards and his eyes widened.

"Correct, Potter," he said, bringing the laughter to a halt. "A rather inconvenient source, however, and there is a much more common one that does not require the slaughter of a gentle and intelligent endangered creature. In this country bezoars can be obtained from the stomach of a goat, or sometimes an ox. A bezoar is a remedy for most poisons, especially those ingested. Two points to Gryffindor, I think, for two valid, although perhaps not optimum, answers." He looked around the classroom. "Well? Why aren't you writing this down?" he asked, addressing the whole class, his tone sharp. Quills were snatched up and children began scribbling furiously.

"Now, what do the rest of you know?" Snape asked, as the sound of quills on parchment died away. "Weasley! What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Ron looked blank. "They're… different colours?" he ventured.

Snape sneered. "A miserable attempt at a guess," he said. "One point from Gryffindor. Someone else… sit down, Granger. Jumping up and down trying to touch the ceiling with your hand is not behaving with decorum. Two points from Gryffindor for making an exhibition of yourself. Observe Greengrass for a model of proper behaviour." He pointed at a pretty blonde girl who was sitting quietly with her hand raised only to head height. "Greengrass, you have the answer?"

"They are different names for the same plant, Professor," Greengrass said. "It's also known as aconite. It's a deadly poison."

"Correct in all respects, Miss Greengrass," Snape said. "So toxic, in fact, that certain North American tribes used it to poison harpoons for whale hunting. Two points to Slytherin."

Snape asked a few more questions, of varying difficulty, picking out a different pupil each time. Harry suspected that he was asking the Gryffindors harder questions but he didn't have enough knowledge to be sure. He was certain that the Slytherins were being more successful, and being awarded more points, than the Gryffindors. Then, at last, Snape turned his attention to Hermione.

"Granger, what would be the correct potion to counteract the effects of the Draught of Living Death?"

"The Wiggenweld Potion, sir," Hermione answered immediately.

"Correct," Snape said. "Two points to Gryffindor. That will be enough questions for now. So far it appears that this class is not entirely composed of dunderheads. Let us see how well you can follow instructions."

He gestured with his wand and writing appeared on the large blackboard that faced the class. "This is the recipe for a simple Boil Cure potion," he said. "Read through it carefully before starting. If there is anything you do not understand… ask." He glowered. "Asking frivolous questions will lose points. Failing to ask genuine questions, and consequently making an error, may result in, at best, a spoiled potion and loss of points. At worst, a painful accident. Intelligent questions may even gain points… although that is unlikely. Now, pair up." The pupils began to head for their friends. "The pairs are to be of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor," Snape said, interrupting the movements. "For instance… Granger, pair with Goyle. Weasley, pair with Greengrass. Carry on!"

Harry found himself next to a Slytherin girl he hadn't really met, something Davis, who had been together with Greengrass when Snape's intervention had split the intended pairs apart. She'd answered one of the earlier questions correctly, which was a promising indication, and no doubt she'd be a much better option than the shambling moron who had been paired with Hermione. Snape had avoided asking Crabbe and Goyle any questions and Harry suspected it was so that they wouldn't cost Slytherin points. Ron seemed to have come out okay, as Greengrass appeared to know quite a bit about potions, but he was glowering anyway. Harry hoped that the same applied to Davis and she wasn't as nasty as some Slytherins he'd met.

She wasn't. Tracey Davis was quiet, perhaps even shy, and after the initial introductions spoke only about matters concerning the potion. Most of the instructions were reasonably straightforward and, in the case of one that neither Harry nor Tracey were certain that they had understood, a question from Parvati Patil, who had been paired with Crabbe, resulted in an explanation from Professor Snape that cleared the point up nicely. When Harry and Tracey finished working their potion resembled the description on the board fairly closely.

Not everyone was equally successful. Lavender Brown of Gryffindor, and Slytherin Pansy Parkinson, had spent more time bickering than brewing and Snape had taken points from both; three from Lavender, who was deemed to have started it, and two from Pansy. And Draco Malfoy, who was paired with Seamus Finnegan of Gryffindor, missed out one of the steps through impatience and caused their cauldron to erupt in a geyser that threatened to scald everyone in the vicinity. Disaster was averted by Professor Snape casting a spell that shielded them and caused the hot liquid to subside back into the cauldron. He penalised both of them five points; Draco for making a careless mistake, and Finnegan for not stopping him. Draco protested.

"Sir, that's not fair, taking points off me," he said. "Finnegan was being too slow. It's his fault I made the mistake."

"And I have penalised you equally," Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "What could be fairer than that?"

"When my father hears…" Draco began.

Snape cut him off short. "Mister Malfoy," he said, "It is not my custom to give detentions to my Slytherin students. If you wish me to make an exception you are going the right way about it. Kindly be silent and return to your work."

Draco muttered a sullen "Yes, sir," and set about trying to salvage the potion.

At the end of the lesson everyone handed in the potions they had made. Snape examined each one and gave a grade. Most were deemed 'Acceptable'. Harry hoped for better but would settle for that. Snape examined the potion that Harry and Tracey handed him and hesitated for a moment before passing judgement. "Acceptable," he said, "but close to Exceeds Expectations. Perhaps next time." He moved on to the next couple, Fay Dunbar of Gryffindor and Theodore Nott of Slytherin, and graded their potion as the only Outstanding of the day.

Harry beamed as he returned to his desk and sat down. The Potions lesson had been much better than the gossip of the older students had led him to expect. Snape had seemed to be slightly biased against Gryffindor and in favour of Slytherin, Harry thought, but not so much so that it was worth worrying about. Snape told the class that they were dismissed and then, as Harry was packing up his things, added "Potter, stay behind." Perhaps there was something to worry about after all. He heard Malfoy sniggering, and a quick glance showed that Ron looked extremely concerned, as the rest of the class left the room.

"Potter, where did you come upon the information that a bezoar could be found in the stomach of an orang-utan?" Snape asked, when everyone else had departed. He spoke in a normal conversational tone, not the harsh tones of an interrogator, and Harry relaxed again.

"It was in a children's story book about Borneo," Harry answered. "My cousin threw it away but I rescued it."

"Was it called… _The Meeting Pool_?" Snape asked. "By… Mervyn Skipper?"

"That's right, sir," Harry answered. "Have you read it too?"

"I have, a very long time ago," Snape said. "Do you still have it?"

"I didn't bring it with me to Hogwarts, sir," Harry said. He had left it in what had been Dudley's 'spare room', or more accurately a depository for things the fat slob broke or discarded, before being reluctantly reallocated to Harry. He doubted if the Dursleys would bother doing anything to the room at all whilst he was at Hogwarts, except perhaps for Dudley throwing more broken toys into it, and so the book should still be there when he returned. "I could bring it the next time I go back… home." He added the last word reluctantly; 4 Privet Drive wasn't somewhere he thought of as 'home', but he didn't have any other word to describe it.

"I would appreciate that, Potter," Snape said. "It would be good to read it one more time. You may go."

Ron was waiting for Harry outside the classroom. "You okay, mate? What did he want?"

"He just wanted to know where I heard about orang-utans having bezoars," Harry said. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Fred and George must have been having us on about Snape being horrible."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "I wouldn't call him nice but he's better than Quirrell. Bit of a dirty trick pairing us up with snakes, though."

"We got off lightly," Harry said. "Mine was all right, and Greengrass seemed to know what she was doing."

"Yeah, but she's a bit of a bossy know-it-all, nearly as bad as Hermione," Ron complained.

"Hermione got stuck with Goyle," Harry said. "Much worse than what we got."

"Yeah, it must have driven her mental," Ron agreed. "Anyway, that's lessons finished for today. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

"Course you can," Harry agreed. "We'll go over about three."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Tea with Hagrid was a mixed experience. The conversation was pleasant, as was the tea, but the rock cakes Hagrid offered them couldn't have been harder if they'd been carved out of granite. His enormous dog, Fang, was intimidating in appearance but his behaviour was almost too friendly; he licked their faces and drooled all over their robes.

The conversation soon turned to the subject of the first week of lessons. Harry and Ron were fairly complimentary about most of the teachers, although of course not about Professor Binns, as he brought a whole new meaning to the expression 'dead boring'. They mentioned to Hagrid that Professor Snape hadn't been anything like as bad as they had been led to expect.

"Yeah, I heard he's better than he was," Hagrid said. "That aunt o' Miss Tonks give 'im a Muggle book 'bout teachin', so I've heard, an' it seems ter have worked. Wouldn've thought yeh could learn anythin' from Muggles but Miss Black thinks otherwise. Guess she was right. Now that Quirrell, he was dead agin it."

"Professor Quirrell's a terrible Defence teacher," Harry said. "That stutter makes it hard to understand what he's saying, he stinks of garlic, and he seems to be scared of his own shadow."

"He used ter be the Muggle Studies teacher," Hagrid said, "but I heard he walked out when they made Bellatrix Black's book the new textbook. Didn' wan' ter teach from it. Wen' away fer a year, studyin' Defence, an' took that job when he came back."

"Fred and George thought that book was brilliant," Ron commented. "Mum wasn't pleased, 'cos Miss Black gave her a right tongue-lashing at King's Cross, but we'd already bought the books by then. I don't think Mum and her like each other much."

"They didn' like each other much when they were both pupils here," Hagrid revealed. "Yer mum was a Prefect in Gryffindor, and Bellatrix was in Slytherin, an'…" He stopped, swallowed, and said "Well, they didn' get on. How're yer brothers Bill an' Charlie doin' these days? I liked Charlie a lot, great with animals."

It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, and Harry guessed that Hagrid had been going to say something uncomplimentary about Mrs Weasley, but Ron didn't seem to notice. He replied enthusiastically to Hagrid's enquiry about his elder brothers and that subject, especially his brother Charlie's job at a dragon preserve, dominated the conversation for the next few minutes.

Harry's attention was caught by a cutting from the Daily Prophet that was lying on Hagrid's table. The headline read 'GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST'. The accompanying story revealed that a vault at Gringotts Bank had been broken into, on the day when Harry had been doing his school shopping in Diagon Alley, but the goblins claimed that nothing had been stolen as the vault had already been emptied before the break-in occurred. Harry remembered that, when Hagrid had taken him to the bank, Hagrid had stopped off to remove something from a vault and had acted as if he was carrying out an important task. When Harry asked him about it, Hagrid pretended not to hear and just offered him another rock cake. Harry let the subject drop but continued to think about it.

By the time the two boys left Hagrid's hut, and were on their way back to the castle, Harry had come to three conclusions. One was that Ron's mother had taken advantage of being an older prefect to pick on Tonks' aunt Bellatrix at school and now, with Bellatrix Black being the equivalent of a policewoman, and probably a fairly senior one, the positions were reversed. The second was that the robbery at Gringotts had been aimed at stealing whatever it was that Hagrid had removed from the vault. And third, Hagrid had taken the name 'rock cakes' far too literally.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Bellatrix was holding two newspapers and a file when she walked into the office. She was frowning but she broke into a smile as she saw Frank. "Good moaning," she greeted him.

Frank had become accustomed to Bellatrix's eccentric greeting, and to her occasionally announcing her arrival with 'It is I, LeClerc', and he accepted it as just another of her Muggle popular culture references that went over his head. "Morning, Bella," he said. "Any progress on the Gringotts break-in?"

Bellatrix's smile vanished. "Fuck that," she said. "The goblins can deal with it themselves. We have something much more serious to worry about. Read this." She handed him one of the newspapers, open at a story that she had highlighted, and then drew her wand and began casting a series of privacy charms.

Frank raised his eyebrows. Bellatrix had worked assiduously at perfecting her wandless magic, since the attack where the Lestrange brothers and Barty Crouch Junior had caught her without her wand, and these days she rarely bothered with her wand unless she needed to get the absolute maximum from her magic. For her to be using it now meant that she must be really serious about this conversation not being overheard.

He turned his attention to the newspaper and his brow began to furrow as he read. By the time he reached the end he was frowning. "Accidents and Catastrophes really messed up on this one," he said. "I'm not sure it's in our jurisdiction, though."

"Read this now," Bellatrix said, passing him the file. "That's their report on the same incident."

Frank's frown deepened. By the time he finished reading it had become a scowl. "It doesn't match up at all. That's… at best, criminal negligence. At worst… just plain criminal."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Bellatrix said. She sat down at her desk. "I've been looking into a few things I saw on the Muggle TV news that struck me as odd. I thought at first that they were just A&C doing a piss-poor job of fixing things, after wizards being bloody careless, and then I began to suspect some of the old Death Eater crowd might be up to their games again. That incident there made me realise it was worse than that. A&C are committing crimes themselves."

"That would explain the discrepancies," Frank agreed. "It will be hard to prove, though, and they'll have Fudge in their corner."

"That bastard!" Bellatrix spat out. "You're right, he'll either try to get his old colleagues from DMAC off or else try to hush the whole thing up. And he hates me."

"You stole his thunder," Frank said. "His big push to succeed Bagnold as Minister was based on his arrest of Sirius Black as your cousin was lying half stunned and helpless. Compared with what you did at our house his achievement was pretty pathetic, even with the way he exaggerated it, and he wouldn't have been elected if there'd been any half-decent other candidates."

"It backfired on me, though," Bellatrix said. "Him blackening Sirius to make himself look better is why I still haven't managed to get Sirius a proper trial after all this time. Everybody thinks he's the worst of them all, You-Know-Who's secret right-hand man, and I can't get anyone to listen to me other than you and Alice, Andi's family, and Amelia. Even Dumbledore just brushed me off. And I didn't neutralise Crouch anything like as much as I'd thought at first. He still hates me, and he still has influence, and even though he's not keen on Fudge he'd still support him against me. The bastard even managed to get his dying wife into Azkaban, to say goodbye to Long John Barty Junior, and yet I couldn't swing getting Aunt Walburga in to see Sirius in the same circumstances. She had to say her goodbye in a letter."

"Well, Barty Junior was dying too," Frank said. "He died the next day, if I recall correctly."

"Yes, and they wouldn't let me go over and dance on his grave," Bellatrix lamented, "or… worse."

Frank laughed. "I'd have been tempted to join you," he said. "But, really, I hope you didn't actually say anything like that. You can be… well, let's call it 'abrasive', and it doesn't help you get people on your side."

"I can play nice when I want to," Bellatrix said. "I managed to get my books accepted as the material for the Hogwarts Muggle Studies syllabus, didn't I?"

"Probably only because nobody thought it was of any importance," Frank said.

"They'd have a different attitude if they realised how close some people get to breaching the Statute of Secrecy due to having no fucking idea how to act around Muggles," Bellatrix said. "Although I have a horrible feeling that it might have been my books that inspired A&C to knock over the Hatton Garden jewellers. And, unfortunately, they don't seem to have taken any notice of my mentions of motion sensors and security cameras."

"If they had, you wouldn't have found out about it," Frank pointed out.

"I almost regret finding out," Bellatrix said. "This is going to be a hard case… and probably dangerous. If they're all crooked, they'll go to Fudge, to cover it all up and put pressure on us to drop the case, no doubt using Sirius against me. If it's just one rogue squad – they'll try to take us out before we can expose them."

"They'd lose," Frank said. "I'm no slouch and you're the most dangerous fighter I've ever seen, other than You-Know-Who and Dumbledore."

"I think you're overrating me," Bellatrix said. "I'm glad I never had to face Antonin Dolohov, and from what I hear Drusilla Yaxley could give me a run for my money, but I'm not worried about facing anyone from DMAC in a fair fight, or even against odds. The reason why I was so careful about privacy spells, and why I don't want to bring anyone else in on this, is because there's one field in which they really excel. Obliviation. That's what scares me. Getting hit, with no warning, and suddenly having no idea that there's even a case in the first place. I've _been_ Obliviated, remember?"

"I hadn't realised you still thought about that," Frank said.

Bellatrix sighed. "I often wonder how things would have gone if I hadn't been, and had remembered everything that happened on my trip to the future. Really, I've based my entire life since then on a couple of snippets of overheard conversation. If I'd remembered more… there might have been a mention of Barty Junior being a Death Eater, and we wouldn't have been caught by surprise, and I might not… Sometimes I even wonder if I've really achieved anything worthwhile. Perhaps I've just swapped my destiny with that of Sirius. Instead of me going to Azkaban for fifteen years, he's been there for ten years, and it could easily be another five before I can get him out. Hopefully he won't be crazy, like the kids said I was, which is why I've been sending him the food parcels and things to read, but it might not work and he'll come out insane and kill me the way I killed him in that… other reality. Has it all been for nothing?"

"From what you told me, it was you that tortured us in the other version of events," Frank said. "Instead, you saved us."

"And I'm glad," Bellatrix said. "I'd do it again, any time… even with what it cost me, it was worth it. For you, and Alice, and Neville… _You can't tell me it's not worth fighting for, you know it's true, Everything I do, I do it for you_."

"That's a slightly excessive way of putting it," Frank said, "but… thank you."

"I was quoting from a song that's number one in the charts at the moment," Bellatrix explained. "The theme song from _Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves_. I took Tonks to see the film in July. Horribly historically inaccurate, but fun, especially as the actor playing the Sheriff of Nottingham is the image of Severus. I nearly had to cast a _Silencio_ on Tonks to stop her from laughing so much we'd have been thrown out."

"You're very fond of your niece, aren't you?" Frank commented. "That might be another vulnerable point to be used against you."

"I love her," Bellatrix said. "She's the daughter I never had." Her expression became stony. "Anyone trying to put pressure on me by threatening Tonks will seriously regret it."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

There were three empty places at the Halloween feast, two pupils and one teacher. Harry knew about one of the missing students; Hermione had quarrelled with Ron, after showing him up in Transfiguration by correcting his spell work in a rather bossy manner, and then she had been mercilessly mocked by Draco Malfoy during the Flying lesson. She'd scurried off as soon as classes finished, looking upset, and calling out "Don't expect to see me at the feast!" as she departed. Harry knew where she would have gone; the Library, which was where she always retreated when annoyed or upset. It was a little surprising that Madam Pince hadn't chased her out, when the time came for the feast, but probably she'd simply taken it for granted that no-one would choose to miss out on a feast in favour of sitting in a library. She didn't know Hermione like Harry knew Hermione.

The missing teacher was Professor Quirrell, and Harry couldn't care less about him. The other student absence was more puzzling. The seat at the head of the Hufflepuff table, where Tonks usually held court, was vacant. Normally she would have been there, keeping order but also making sure everyone at the table was having fun, acting like everyone's big sister. Harry had sometimes looked in that direction and regretted that he hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff. It was strange that she was missing what was more like a party than a meal. Where could she be?

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise, coming from somewhere far away, sounding almost like an explosion. The chatter and laughter at the tables died away and pupils and staff looked around. Harry's first guess was that a Muggle fighter jet had broken the sound barrier immediately over the castle; as Hogwarts was enchanted to look like an abandoned ruin to Muggles, and he knew the sparsely-populated parts of Scotland were used for military exercises, this seemed the likeliest explanation. After a few moments in which nothing seemed to be happening the students turned their attention back to the food.

Then a translucent silver bird, looking like the ghost of a jackdaw, flew into the Great Hall and up to the staff table. It spoke, loudly, in Tonks' voice.

"Troll attack!" the bird announced. "I've been attacked by a troll. I'm injured and on my way to the infirmary. The troll is splattered all over the corridor outside my room. I'd appreciate it if someone could clean it up. Tonks out." The bird seemed to dissolve into a cloud of glowing mist, faded, and disappeared.

There was instant pandemonium within the hall. Harry knew that trolls were a type of monster, but nothing else about them, and he wanted to know about the silvery bird that had spoken with Tonks' voice. So many people were speaking at once that any questions he asked would be drowned out by the hubbub and so he remained silent. He saw that all the Hufflepuffs were getting to their feet.

There was another loud bang, sharper and closer than the one before, coming from the staff table. Everyone looked that way, the pupils fell silent, and the Hufflepuffs stood still. Harry saw Dumbledore on his feet with his wand pointed at the ceiling; he must have caused the bang with a spell.

"Please, be quiet!" Dumbledore called. "There is no cause for alarm. Miss Tonks, as you will have heard, is safe. Sit down, and carry on with your meal, while I…"

He was interrupted by the door opening and Professor Quirrell rushing into the hall. "Trolls!" he cried. "A pair of them broke in. One in the dungeons, another went upstairs. I tried to stop them… failed… thought you ought to know." With that he fell to the floor in a faint.

The pandemonium started up again. All of the Hufflepuffs drew their wands, in a ripple of motion that resembled a Mexican Wave, and those who had sat down got back to their feet. Dumbledore raised his wand again and another crack of sound quelled the pupils and restored quiet.

"Quiet, please!" Dumbledore called. "Hufflepuffs, sit down! Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, go to your common rooms. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs stay here. Severus, Pomona, stay and watch over them. Poppy, to the hospital wing and see to Miss Tonks. The rest of the staff will come with me and search for the troll. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw prefects, organise the evacuation of your House pupils. Carry on!"

Harry started to move towards the exit, with everyone else, but then he remembered Hermione. She was up in the Library, unaware that there was a troll loose in the school, and if she decided to come to the Feast after all she might come down and head unaware into danger. He tried to attract the attention of a prefect but they were leading the Gryffindors out from the front and he couldn't get to them. Professor Snape was fully occupied with the Slytherins, and Professor Sprout was restraining the Hufflepuffs from marching out and taking a terrible revenge on the troll whose companion had injured Tonks, and Professor Quirrell was still flat out on the floor. Anyway, Quirrell was useless and sometimes Harry's scar hurt when he looked at him. In the absence of teachers or Gryffindor prefects it would have been Tonks to whom Harry turned but she, of course, was unavailable. And, although everyone knew the Head Girl, the Head Boy was a nonentity and Harry only had a vague idea that he was a Ravenclaw.

With all the authority figures out of reach Harry turned to Ron. "Hermione doesn't know about the troll!" he said. "She could walk into it and get hurt!"

"Killed, even," Ron agreed. "They're great big monsters and if one could hurt Tonks a First Year wouldn't stand a chance."

"We need to warn her!" Harry insisted.

Ron bit his lip. "Yeah, she's a bit of a bossy-boots but I wouldn't want her to get hurt. Know where she is?"

"The Library, I bet," Harry said, and he and Ron split off from the rest, who were on their way to Gryffindor Tower, and headed for the stairs that led up to the Library.

They had just reached the landing of the Third Floor when they met Hermione on her way down from the Fourth. "Did you hear that great big bang?" she asked. "What was it, do you know?"

"Tonks killed a troll," Harry told her. "There's another one loose in the castle and we have to go to the Common Room."

"Trolls? In the castle?" Hermione exclaimed. "They're huge monsters, twelve feet tall, and resistant to magic. How did they get in? And how could Tonks kill it?"

"She runs a Defence club for the 'Puffs," Ron said. "They all say she's great at it."

Harry hadn't known that but realised that it explained the way the Hufflepuffs had reacted to Tonks' message. Not for the first time Harry regretted not having been Sorted into Hufflepuff. "I wish someone would run one for us," he remarked. "Quirrell's useless."

"You shouldn't say that about a Professor," Hermione chided him, but then relaxed into a grin. "Although perhaps you're right. He's not very good at teaching."

Ron had wandered over to the corridor on the right-hand side of the landing. "Hey, this is that corridor Dumbledore said everyone had to stay away from," he said. "Wonder what's there?"

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione snapped. "Come away from there. He said it was out of bounds to anyone who didn't want to die a painful death."

"Like there's really going to be anything that dangerous in a school," Ron scoffed, going further into the corridor.

"A school which two trolls have just walked into," Harry pointed out, but he walked forward to join Ron. "I can't help being curious, though."

"And there's no-one around to catch us," Ron said.

"Oh, you two are incorrigible!" Hermione snapped. She followed them, frowning, and told them "Come back at once! You said everyone had to go to the common room. You'll get us killed. Or, worse, expelled."

"You need to sort out your priorities," Ron said, "but… you're usually right. Okay, we'll head for the dorms."

"What's that smell?" Hermione said, her nose wrinkling, as they turned around to go back to the staircase.

"Something rotten…" Harry began, and then he heard the thud of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Too heavy to be any of the teachers except perhaps for Hagrid.

"In the state of Denmark?" Hermione completed his sentence.

Harry had no idea what she was talking about but there were more urgent priorities than finding out. "Shush!" he ordered. If he'd said that to Dudley the fat slob would have yelled and stamped, just to be awkward, but Hermione and Ron were much more sensible and had a much better sense of self-preservation. They froze and fell silent, looking toward the stairs, and when a huge and misshapen grey head came into view they only gasped in horror. The troll made its way up the stairs, moving slowly, until it reached the landing.

Harry was hoping that the troll would keep going up the stairs so that they could run past it and down to safety. It didn't look agile, and had seemed to have a problem climbing the stairs, perhaps because of the size of its feet. He doubted if it could catch them once they were on the staircase. Unfortunately, as soon as it reached the landing, it turned right and made straight for the three children. It raised a massive club and growled.

Hermione screamed. Ron let out a cry that wasn't quite a scream. Harry gave a yell that definitely wasn't a girly scream but only sounded that way. Then, in unison, the three turned and ran away along the forbidden corridor. The troll followed, moving slowly, but inexorably. The children ran until they were brought to a halt by a door.

Ron tried to open it but found that it was locked. "We're done for!" he wailed. "This is the end!"

"Oh, move over," Hermione ordered, in her bossiest voice. She tapped the lock with her wand and called out "_Alohomora!_" There was a click as the door unlocked and she pulled it open. The three dived inside… and came to a horrified halt as they saw an immense, three-headed, dog sprawled on the floor ahead of them. It opened two of its mouths, revealing huge yellowish fangs, and growled in stereo. It was, if anything, even more terrifying than the troll. The children reversed their course, as the gigantic dog got to its feet, and ran back out into the corridor.

"What do we do?" Ron yelled, as he pulled the door shut. "We're trapped!"

Harry was struck by a desperate idea. "If we let the dog out, maybe they'll fight each other," he suggested, "and we can sneak past."

"Of course!" cried Hermione. "Like Sinbad releasing the dragon to fight the cyclops! That's brilliant!"

"Yeah, but we're still stuck between the two," Ron said. "The dog will eat us first. Unless… we hide behind the door."

The troll was getting close and Harry acted without further discussion. He pushed the door open and, followed by the others, rushed into the room. They flattened themselves against the wall and pulled the door after them. One of the dog's heads snapped at them, making them cower back, but then the other two heads spotted the troll. They pulled the door as close to them as they could, shielding them from the dog, and then they heard the dog charge out into the corridor, barking and growling as it went.

Once the dog was out of the room they came out from behind the door and looked around. "No other doors," Harry said, "so no other way out."

"There's a trapdoor in the floor," Ron observed. "Wonder what's under it?"

"Unless it's a staircase to Gryffindor Tower, I don't want to know," said Hermione.

"I'll look," Harry said, and he scuttled over to the trapdoor, seized its metal ring and pulled it open, and peered through the opening. "I don't see anything but black," he said. "No stairs. I don't fancy dropping down there." He went back to join the others at the doorway.

The three-headed dog was blocking the path of the troll, barking and growling, but the troll was still coming on. It was wielding a club the size of a tree trunk. Suddenly it lashed out with the club and struck the dog on its left-hand head. The head sagged limply. The other two heads snarled and darted forward, snapping at the troll, and one of them latched onto the troll's left arm. Its fangs bit deep, the other jaws left a bloody gash across the troll's midriff, and then the club descended again and thudded home on the dog's back.

The children watched in horrified fascination as the two monsters struck and tore at each other. The dog was doing fearsome damage to the troll but taking punishment from the club. Another of the dog's heads flopped limply. The remaining head's jaws fastened onto one of the troll's legs and ripped away the entire front thigh muscle. The troll went down and the dog savaged its left arm. The club swept across and bashed the dog's last head. That was the end of the fight. The dog collapsed and lay still.

"Oh, the poor thing!" Hermione lamented.

"She's mental," Ron muttered.

Harry wouldn't have gone as far as Hermione but he could see her point. The three-headed dog might be a ferocious monster but it was considerably less hideous than the troll. And it had, after all, only aimed one snap at them and not come particularly close. More of a warning, really, than a serious attempt to kill. The troll, on the other hand, was definitely after them. Even now it was pushing itself forward, ignoring the fallen dog, and trying to get to the room in which the three had taken refuge. With one arm and one leg out of action it was still intent on attacking them.

"The troll's still after us and I don't think we can get past it," Harry said. "We'll have to shut ourselves up in the room and hope it can't get the door open. It's a pity it opens inwards. Do you know how to lock it again, Hermione?"

"I only know the unlocking spell," Hermione admitted. "We're in trouble."

The troll was using its club to lever itself onward. The head of the club slipped in a pool of blood, skidded forwards, and the troll lost its grip. The club rolled a short distance away and the troll awkwardly tried to recover it.

"Maybe not," Ron said. "Trolls are resistant to magic but maybe the club isn't." He pointed his wand. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The club rose into the air, high above the troll, which was still pushing itself forward. Ron released his spell and the club plummeted down and landed on the troll's head. There was a loud 'thud!' and the troll's head was slammed down onto the stone floor of the corridor with another thud. The creature slumped and lay still.

"That was brilliant, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Praise later, run now!" Harry said, and led by example.

They raced past the motionless troll, which had been so mauled by the giant dog that it was probably dying, and past the dog. Its ribcage was rising and falling and so they guessed that it was unconscious rather than dead. They ran along the landing and had just reached the top of the stairs when they met three staff members coming up. Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, and Hagrid.

"What've yeh done ter Fluffy?" Hagrid cried out, as he saw the body of the three-headed dog. "Yeh've killed him!"

"It wasn't us!" Ron cried.

"He's not dead!" Harry said.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You called a Cerberus _Fluffy_?"

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

By now the delivery of the food parcels from Bellatrix had become routine. The guards no longer bothered to insult him but simply put down the cardboard box and left. Sirius hastened to open the box, his mouth already starting to salivate at the thought of the treats within. He would be careful with the chocolates; no more than two dark chocolates, one dark and two milk, or three milk. That would keep away the influence of the Dementors at the price of only mild stomach discomfort, at worst, when he adopted his canine form. The rest of the foodstuffs he would eat sparingly, spreading them out over the month, and some of the meats and biscuits he would eat in his doggy form for maximum enjoyment.

The selection of foods was pretty much the same as on previous occasions. There was a book of crosswords, _The Daily Telegraph Big Book of Cryptic Crosswords No. 1_, and another stub of pencil, but no newspaper this time. And, as usual, there was a letter.

_Happy Birthday Dear Idiot Cousin,_

_There are a couple of special birthday presents for you at the bottom of the box. I've been spending a lot of time in the Muggle world lately and I saw these and thought of you. These are the classiest, although not necessarily the most explicit, I could find. Of course, if some of the rumours about you, that were circulating at school, happen to be true you won't appreciate them but there are a couple of pages of articles in them that you can read in that case – and I don't believe the rumours myself. Hope you enjoy them and, of course, the food. __Remember__ to exercise, as much as you can in a cell, unless you want to be the first person ever to get fat in Azkaban. Your non-idiot cousin Bellatrix._

He took note of the underlined word and said the password phrase that would reveal the secret part of the letter.

_Still no progress on getting you out, I'm afraid. Too much of Fudge's prestige is tied up in you being the worst criminal ever other than You-Know-Who and he blocks everything I try. However I'm investigating something at the moment that might give me some leverage over him. Here's hoping that will work out._

_In other news, there was a strange incident at Hogwarts at Halloween. Two trolls got into the castle and one of them attacked Nymphadora! She killed it, of course, but it broke her arm. Dumbledore says it was just a temporary glitch in the wards and won't permit any investigation, which is a pity, because if I could prove negligence on his part then I would be able to pressure him into supporting me over your case. I don't know why he's so adamant that you're guilty, but he is, and without his backing I'm getting nowhere. But don't give up hope! Once I get to be Head of the Auror Office no-one will be able to stop me from at least visiting you. At the moment there's no point in getting the current Head, Rufus Scrimgeour, to go and see you because he doesn't like me and thinks I'm after his job – probably because I am. If I can crack this case, and hopefully show Rufus up in the process, Amelia might be able to use that to put me in his place. Then we're in business! Don't forget to thank me._

_Bellatrix._

Sirius said the phrase that made the letter revert to its original, innocuous, text and turned his attention to the rest of the parcel. Under the preserved meats, biscuits, and chocolates were two glossy Muggle magazines with pictures of scantily-dressed young women on their covers. _Mayfair_, which had a busty cover girl wearing a bright yellow one-piece bathing suit, and _Club International_, on the cover of which was a blonde who was holding up her mini-skirt to display her knickers.

He opened up the one called _Mayfair_ and found that the relatively modest bathing suit on the cover was no indication of what was inside. Each of the attractive girls in the photoshoots might start off wearing bathing suits, or underwear, but by the end they were naked and posing in ways that left nothing to the imagination. Sirius felt his eyes almost bulging out of his head – and something else was bulging, too. He skipped past the article on the Rugby World Cup and devoured the rest of the girls with his eyes. After skimming through that magazine, he moved on to _Club International_ and found that the girls in it were, if anything, even prettier, started off wearing even nicer underwear, and finished in poses that were even lewder.

Sirius felt acutely embarrassed that the magazines had been sent to him by his beautiful, but extremely intimidating, cousin. He rather resented the insinuation she had made about his preferences, but at least she'd said that she didn't believe the rumours herself, and he was willing to forgive her. His body was proving, conclusively, that they were baseless. He opened the selection box of _Charbonnel et Walker_ chocolates and took out two dark and one milk chocolates; slightly more than what he had come to regard as the maximum safe dose, but he was going to stay in human form for as long as there was enough light to see by and he was prepared to put up with some doggy discomfort afterwards.

He wondered, briefly, about Bellatrix's own relationships. She hadn't married, which was unusual in a witch her age and especially in one of the Black family, and she never mentioned any boyfriends. Perhaps she had bought these magazines originally for herself? Or was it just that Bellatrix was too scary for anyone, even a Gryffindor, to approach in a romantic sense?

His mind briefly wandered to her mention of the troll incident at Hogwarts. How on Earth had trolls got into the castle? Harry would be at Hogwarts now, he remembered, and he hoped that he hadn't been affected by the affair. Although surely Bellatrix would have mentioned it if he had been. He put aside those thoughts and went back to the magazines.

He ate the first of the chocolates and settled down to create some emotions that would be unlike anything else the Dementors had experienced. As he looked at the magnificent breasts of someone called Kirsten Imrie, he thought he might even be able to produce memories happy enough to be worthy of a Patronus. Although the wand involved wouldn't be made of wood…

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Disclaimer: The _Harry Potter_ series is the property of J K Rowling. _(Everything I Do) I Do It for You_ was performed by Bryan Adams and written by Bryan Adams, Michael Kamen, and Robert 'Mutt' Lange.


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